


Love and Lyrium

by Alistairs_Queen



Series: Mana Ladies [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mage Trevelyan (Dragon Age), Purple Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 00:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 201,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alistairs_Queen/pseuds/Alistairs_Queen
Summary: This retelling of the Inquisition story was actually my first dip into Dragon Age Fics. I hope you all enjoy.





	1. A World Gone Mad

Evelyn's staff spun wildly through the air, perfectly mimicking what her thoughts were doing inside her head. She'd awoken only a few hours ago in a world gone mad. Once her captors had realized she was conscious, she'd been shackled and forced to kneel on the floor of what looked like a dungeon, four swords dutifully pointed at her from all angles. When the Seekers had come to question her, one loud and brazen, the other quiet and curious, they had accused her of killing everyone who had attended the conclave. Her heart twinged again as she thought about how many people had been lost in the explosion that she had been the sole survivor of. Her left palm was itching and she stifled the inconvenience as she channeled her magic through the staff she'd grabbed when the demons started falling. Her mind raced as her fingers artfully traced sigils in the air while she whipped her staff to accommodate the movement. The Shade before her froze as the spell slammed into it. She twisted her body, dancing closer to it and used the heavy top end of the staff to smack into the frozen demon and shatter it to pieces.

Her breath came in heavy pants, misting into view before her as her eyes scanned the frozen lake on which they stood. “It's over,” she sighed, dropping her arms to her sides, the staff lax in her grip.

Her ornery new friend crossed the field of battle in seconds, her sword raised toward Evelyn's chest. “Drop your weapon! Now!”

Evelyn lifted the staff, her hand gripping the wood a little more tightly even as she raised her left hand in a defensive gesture. In an attempt to lighten the mood she chuckled nervously at the sword being brandished in her direction. “Do you think I need a staff to be dangerous?”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” The woman snarled. Her dark brown eyes narrowed in annoyance and the sword remained pointed.

“I haven't used my magic on you, yet,” Evelyn reasoned, the freezing mountain winds picking up to blow her nearly white hair into her face. She watched the Seeker's face through the wisps of hair as her words sunk in. She didn't dare twitch until Cassandra realized she truly meant her no harm.

Those angry pools of brown slowly softened as Evelyn stood stark still. Finally, Cassandra let out a heavy sigh and her legs pulled together as her sword turned and was slipped into a sheathe at her hip. “You do not need a staff, but you should have one. I can not protect you and I should not expect you to be defenseless. I should also remember that you agreed to come willingly.”

Evelyn let out her own sigh as she straightened her posture. Her left hand lifted automatically to brush the offending hair from her face and she was momentarily startled to see the blaze of green energy glowing on her palm. It tingled as if glad to be noticed and she glanced from it to the matching hole in the sky. The Breach, as it had been named, shimmered and pulsed with magic as it rained demons and horrors onto the land around them. Evelyn had been raised in the Circle. Until today she'd thought she knew everything there was to know about magic. Maker, had she been wrong. She returned her attention back to Cassandra who was waiting at the edge of the frozen lake, her own eyes fixed on Evelyn. Evelyn tucked her hair behind her ear and started carefully towards the water's edge, using her staff to keep from slipping on the ice. She was not dressed well for the harsh weather surrounding Haven. Ferelden was definitely much colder than the Free Marches where she'd grown up. She shuddered as she approached Cassandra, wondering how the woman wasn't cold. Her armor wasn't much more than leathers and a small cuirass. Evelyn assumed the leathers must have been fur lined.

“Here,” Cassandra said when Evelyn climbed up from the lake. She offered her a belt lined with small philters full of healing elixirs. “Take these potions. Maker knows what we may face.”

Evelyn thanked her and secured the belt to her waist beneath the ones that carried her Lyrium potions. She followed closely behind Cassandra, the sun every now and then glinting off the Warrior's shield when it peeked from behind the storm clouds. The valley was quiet aside from the far off sounds of fighting and the occasional deep popping sound that periodically came from the Breach. Evelyn kept glancing up at the monstrosity in the sky. Cassandra had said that the explosion at the Conclave had ripped the sky, creating a tear in the veil which was allowing the Demons from the Fade to walk Thedas unchecked. Whatever had caused the Breach was magic far beyond Evelyn's expertise. To take her mind from it's musings and the eerie quiet, she spoke to Cassandra. “Where are all of your soldiers?”

Cassandra balked, twisting her neck to glance behind her at Evelyn. “At the forward camp or fighting. We are on our own for now.” Her Nevarran accent was thick and Evelyn wondered how a Nevarran native had ended up in service to the Fereldan Chantry. She made a mental note to ask if she survived long enough to do so. As if in response to her thoughts, the mark on her palm burned as the Breach released a small volley of magic. She rubbed the hand on her thigh as she walked. Suddenly, Cassandra slowed, “There, down the embankment. If we flank them, we may gain the advantage.”

The warrior drew her sword once more and shimmied over the edge of the short drop onto more frozen bits of lake. Evelyn waited up top, slowly spinning her staff to charge the energy needed for her chained lightning spell. When she heard Cassandra's war cry echo over the calm air, she slammed the charged staff into the ground at her feet and aimed the spell at the closest demon, her fingers twitching in the appropriate gestures to cast the lightning. Magic was an art. One that Evelyn prided herself at being a master in. It had even been a demon of Pride that had approached her during her Harrowing, hoping to lure her into a trap that would allow it to ride her body and make her an abomination. Evelyn was prideful, but not stupid. In the end, she'd overcome the demon and passed her Harrowing to become a full fledged mage. The lightning burst from her palms, shot up the staff and arched towards the demon. As it sparked, it jumped back and forth between the two shades, flashing brightly as their bodies seized. As soon as the last spark fired, Cassandra jumped in, slamming into the closest demon and knocking it back so she could have a better angle to smite the other. Evelyn adjusted her footing and her fingers danced, calling fire to her palm. She lobbed the fireball at the dazed demon that Cassandra had knocked back while the warrior handled the other. The fire sizzled over the demon's flesh and it shrieked in pain as it burned. It turned to flee, but Evelyn had another spell ready. She stopped it in it's tracks as she called on her force magic, slamming it into the ground with an invisible fist from the sky. It's screams went silent as the fire finished it off. Cassandra was standing not far from it, watching, her own demon already dead. Evelyn closed her fist around the spell she had readied just in case and her magic dimmed. She followed Cassandra down the embankment and they continued on. After a few more demons, Evelyn said. “Your sword work is impressive.”

Cassandra again deigned to look shocked that Evelyn was being kind. “Thank you,” she said, suspicion heavy in her accent. Evelyn opened her mouth to retort, but before she had the chance, Cassandra lifted a hand to stop her, her head cocked slightly. “We are close. You can hear the fighting.”

“Who's fighting?” Evelyn asked, her pace quickening as she followed Cassandra up the hill ahead, her staff coming in handy to keep her footing in the blanket of snow covering the stairway.

“You will see soon. We must hurry!” Cassandra called behind her as she began to sprint.

Evelyn sighed and she jogged to keep up. Cresting the hill, she indeed heard the sounds of battle ahead. The wind carried voices to her and not all of them were human. She caught up to Cassandra just as the warrior dropped down another embankment and charged into a demon. There were several soldiers, all of whom were flagging as the demons poured from a small rift in the sky. Evelyn dropped down behind Cassandra and assessed the situation. Where would her magic be most useful? She noted the tug of mana nearby and realized she was not the only mage on the field. Her eyes narrowed in the greenish glow of the rift as she strained to find the other mage. She felt a barrier spring up nearby and her gaze was drawn to the left. She spotted the mage. An elf. He was dressed simply in light traveler's clothing, a pack nestled comfortably on his back as he moved with a grace and fluidity she had never seen in another mage. The glow of the rift bounced off his bald head as he moved, casting defensive spells and trying to protect the soldiers. She saw an opening on his flank where a demon began to slither towards him. She stepped forward, calling to the warm spindle of magic in her chest where her power resided. Drawing it to her finger tips, she stepped over the body of a soldier that had fallen before they arrived, calmly thinking a short prayer for him as her spell crept up to the tip of her staff. She put her back to the elf and tipped her staff head to the ground then drew it in an arc before her. The wall of ice sprang up piercing the approaching demon and lending a small barrier between her and any other threats from that direction. She kept her back to the elf, slinging spells left and right and dropping a few more demons before her eyes noticed their dwindling numbers.

Just as she was about to drop her defenses and reign in her magic, she felt a steady grip on her left forearm. She was pulled around to face the rift and the elf held her fast. His expression was strained and his breathing quick as she felt him reign in his own power before piercing her with his gaze. His eyes were a light brown with flecks of grey. Or was that a trick of the light? His brows were knitted together as he spoke to her over the sound of rushing water that the rift was making. “Quickly! Before more come through!”

He lifted her arm towards the rift and the mark reacted to the magic. Her palm burned, as magic licked over the mark, the familiar energies recognizing each other and connecting. In a span of a few seconds, the rift closed in on itself and disappeared. She pulled her hand away, cradling her burning fist against her chest as she gaped at the elf. “What did you do?”

The expression on his face had changed to one of contained amusement. His hands were clasped behind his back, his staff tucked between the backpack and his back. “ _I_ did nothing. The credit is yours.” He inclined his head slightly in a short bow of concession.

She pulled her hand from her chest and opened her fist to stare at the strange mark still glowing in her palm. “You mean I closed that thing?”

Another tip of his head came before he spoke. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake and it seems I was correct.”

Cassandra approached, her tone curious. “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself?”

The elf let out a short chuckle. “Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Evelyn blinked at him, her mind trying to wrap itself around the statement when another voice rose from a few feet away. “Good to know. And here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever.” She tore her gaze from her own palm to see a dwarf. He slung a crossbow over his shoulder, latching it to a rig and grinned at her. He had short, dirty blonde hair which he'd pulled out of his face in a half up half loose style. The most prominent feature on any dwarf was his beard, but this dwarf was strangely beardless. His skin was lightly tanned, marking him as a life long surfacer. His lack of beard was made up for by the substantial amount of chest hair that peeked from his shirt. She studied his face as he approached. His nose had been recently broken, the bridge sporting a thin cut that was healing over. He wore a few piercings in his ears and his grin spoke of mischief. “Varric Tethras...” he announced proudly. “Rogue, story teller, and occasionally unwelcome tag-along.” He turned his gaze on Cassandra and winked.

The warrior's lip curled and a noise of disgust escaped her throat before she turned away from the dwarf, her hand flapping in dismissal. Varric glanced back at Evelyn, the grin still present. Evelyn was certain she had heard the name Varric Tethras before and she wracked her brain, wondering where as she said, “That's a nice crossbow you've got there.”

Varric glanced lovingly over his shoulder at the weapon and sighed. “Isn't she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

Evelyn matched his grin with her own. “You named your crossbow Bianca?”

“Of course. And she'll be great company in the valley,” he said as Evelyn remembered where she'd heard his name. He was the famous author who had penned the Hard in Hightown serial and more well known the Tale of the Champion. Evelyn had read both tales and was forced to wonder what an author was doing fighting demons.

“Absolutely not! Your help is appreciated Varric, but...” Cassandra said, her voice rising with displeasure.

Varric turned on her, the smile disappearing momentarily as he said with a chuckle, “Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me.”

Another noise of disgust was directed at him as Cassandra realized he was right. “My name is Solas if there are to be introductions.” The elf said, his tone mild as he approached, his hands still behind his back. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

Before Evelyn could return with a greeting, Varric piped up. “He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'.”

Evelyn's eyes widened as she glanced back at the mage. He was watching her closely with a pleasant expression on his face. There was something behind his gaze. Like he knew much more than everyone and was awfully pleased with himself for the fact. “You seem to know a great deal about it all...” Evelyn prodded, her palm itching again. She flexed her fingers absently and took note of him noticing her discomfort.

“Unlike you, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said with a surprising amount of acceptance in her up-until-then harsh tone.

“All mages are now apostates, Cassandra.” Solas said, his tone never changing from the scholarly hum that he had put forth so far. Then he switched topics as his gaze again fell on Evelyn. “You should know that the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Indeed, your prisoner is a mage, but I find it hard to imagine any mage with such power.”

“Understood,” Cassandra said politely. “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

She started off toward a break in the guard rail as Evelyn realized that the path ahead was blocked by a crumbling roadway. Evelyn trailed behind, watching Solas follow behind, his footfalls almost silent as he was wearing nothing more than footwraps over his mostly bare feet. How typically elven of him. “Well,” Varric said with a sigh, tapping Evelyn's elbow as he passed to catch up. “Bianca's excited.”

The trek to the forward camp was riddled with demons and questions thrown at her from Varric. He was impressively perceptive and she began to see him in a new, more suspicious light. She could tell that every bit of information she revealed was being stored away in a vault in his mind for future use. What the intended use was, she had no idea, but he was friendly enough in spite of Cassandra's obvious distaste for him. Evelyn was pondering her small party when a crackling noise erupted from the sky and her mark stung her palm like a jolt from a bee sting. She couldn't help the cry as it escaped her lips and she flexed the muscles and made a fist only to shake it out by her leg.

“Shit, are you okay?” Varric asked. It had quickly become common knowledge that the mark was slowly killing her, but other than the paining of her palm, she felt fine. Could Solas be wrong?

She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth as the pain subsided and then grunted “I'm fine.”

“It is not much further,” Solas informed her in what she assumed he meant as a reassuring tone, but it simply fell on her ears as pitying.

She pushed ahead, following Cassandra who seemed to be driving them faster and faster. “I hope Leliana made it through all of this,” she mused after they had taken down yet another group of demons.

“She's resourceful, Seeker,” Varric assured her in spite of their strained relationship. Evelyn's initial suspicion of the dwarf was slowly dwindling. Perhaps he was just curious. If a lone woman had survived a cataclysmic explosion with a magical mark on her hand that closed tears in the veil, and it hadn't been her, she would have been curious, too. Too bad she probably wouldn't live to see how everything played out. At this point she was fighting to keep herself alive long enough to just attempt to close the Breach before it spread too far and swallowed all of Thedas.

Just outside the forward camp, there was another rift slowly raining waves of demons. They fought through the tide, Evelyn getting as close as she could, dodging spikes of green crystal that kept manifesting under her feet if she stood still too long. Cassandra had knocked her out of the way of the first one and she had made certain to keep an eye out for more on her own when the woman had glared her down. Evelyn was trained in battle magic, and the last few months outside the circle had given her ample time to hone her skills, but nothing could have prepared her for battling actual flesh and blood demons or having to adjust her footwork against manifestations of the Fade bleeding into their world. What had happened in the Temple of Sacred Ashes? And why couldn't she remember? Every time she tried to recall how she had survived, her mind went blank. It was as if the memories were simply plucked from their place and discarded. It was an uncomfortable experience that was giving her a headache. “Quickly, use the mark.” Solas called as the massing of demons subsided momentarily.

Evelyn glanced down at her marked hand and had no idea what to do. She remembered Solas lifting her hand to the rift and it simply worked on its own. She mimicked the behavior, raising her hand toward the slit in the air. Again, the magics recognized each other and her hand burned as the rift closed in on itself, tugging her inches closer. Once it snapped shut and the air calmed, she shook her hand again, allowing the burning to cool. “The rift is closed! Open the gates!” Cassandra called.

The massive doors that blocked the path clicked and hummed as the soldiers on the other side worked the mechanisms to allow them entry. Evelyn followed Cassandra onto the bridge where the forward camp had been established. There were weary soldiers scattered all around. Evelyn realized that she had forgotten to ask one of the most pressing questions. How long had it been since the explosion? These men and women all looked as if they had been fighting for days. Tired, hungry and beaten down as they were, they still managed to cast her sideways glances and angry glares as they passed. Everyone was blaming her for their suffering. She cowed under the expressions. Without her memories, she couldn't explain anything. She was beginning to think that Varric's suggestion to 'spin a story' may have been a good one, but it was too late now. They approached a table where Leliana, the quieter of the two who had come to interrogate her, stood arguing with a man in Chantry robes. When the older man noticed them approaching, he jumped on the chance to disregard what Leliana had been saying softly to him and bellowed. “I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!”

“Order me?” Cassandra scoffed as she paused in front of the table. Her fingers twitched toward her sword, but she opted for insulting rather than skewering the man, her hips cocking out to the side. “You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!”

“And you're a thug,” he shot back. “One who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

Evelyn already didn't like the man. There were much more important matters than punishing her for something she was fairly certain she hadn't been responsible for. “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor. As you well know,” Leliana purred, her Orlesian accent clipped in irritation.

“Justinia is dead!” the Chancellor spun to face Leliana, his hands coming up before him to magnify his point. His voice took on an air of sorrow as he continued, his hands dropping back to his sides. “We should elect a replacement and obey _her_ orders on the matter.”

“Don't talk about me as if I'm not here,” Evelyn interjected, the conversation beginning to irritate her.

“You shouldn't even _be_ here!” the Chancellor turned his ire on Evelyn, his lip curling up as if she were some disgusting thing. He looked back to Cassandra who stepped closer to the table past Evelyn. Had she stepped forward when she'd defended herself? She was so angry at the man that she was clenching her fists. She breathed to calm herself. He was simply scared. “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

“We can stop this before it's too late,” Cassandra insisted.

“How?” the Chancellor asked, his voice wavering. “You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all of your soldiers.”

“We must get to the temple. It's the quickest route!” Cassandra argued her own voice sounding fatigued.

“But not the safest.” Leliana said quietly. “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path!” Cassandra said, her voice rising and her eyes widening. “It's too risky.”

“Listen to me!” the Chancellor pleaded. “Abandon this now, before more lives are lost...”

Just then, the Breach made itself known, crackling and spitting. Evelyn's arm lifted of it's own accord, upwards toward the Breach as if the massive rift was calling to the mark. Searing pain lanced up her arm and she bit her bottom lip and grabbed hold of her wrist with her free hand, the staff she'd been carrying dropping to the ground with a clatter. The mark answered the Breach, the green glow spreading outwards as it burned like flames. All eyes fell on Evelyn as the outburst flowed then ebbed. She gritted her teeth and when the burning stopped, she clenched her fist and her eyes met Cassandra's. “How do _you_ think we should proceed?” Cassandra asked her, her voice much more gentle than Evelyn had ever heard it.

“Now you're asking me what I think?” Evelyn asked, snatching the staff from where it had fallen and momentarily leaning on it to catch her breath.

“You have the mark,” Solas pointed out.

“And _you_ are the one we must keep alive,” Cassandra added.

 _For all of the good that'll do in the long run_. Evelyn thought, her eyes narrowing. “I say we charge. I won't survive long enough for your trial. Whatever happens, happens now.” She pushed past Cassandra who almost immediately fell in behind her.

“Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. _Everyone_.” Cassandra called as he kept pace behind Evelyn.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” the Chancellor snarled.

Evelyn couldn't help disliking the man. Scared or no, he was being an ass. They trudged up the mountain, towards the ruins of what had been the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The apparent resting place of the Prophet Andraste. Bride of the Maker. Evelyn remembered making this same trek what felt like a lifetime ago. She had traveled all of the way from Ostwick to sneak into the Conclave to get a better understanding of which direction the war between Templars and Mages was going to lean. When it had come down to it, she had been among those who had voted for independence for mages. Her freedom was not quite how she had imagined it so far. She'd spent her days after leaving the Circle feeling hunted. She never lingered in one place for fear of being discovered by a rogue templar and cut down where she stood for simply being born a mage. She had prayed to Andraste that the conclave would be her salvation. Apparently the lady hadn't been listening, nor had the Maker. The conclave had done nothing but solidify the fact that she was going to die.

When they reached the entry to the courtyard outside the Ruined temple, Evelyn heard the signs of another scuffle going on behind the door. It was partially open and she darted up the steps and slammed her way through the entryway. Her magic uncoiled from her chest and rushed to her fingertips then she saw a unit of soldiers fighting a group of demons beneath another small rift. She heard the footfalls of her companions behind her as she surveyed the battlefield. “How many rifts are there?!” Varric shouted as she heard him crank Bianca and place a bolt into position.

“We must seal it! Quickly!” Solas shouted as his magic tugged on hers. She bolted ahead, her staff already spinning as she stopped a good distance from the rift in the backline. She tended to forget that in a typical battle, mages were to be in the back ranks, not up front in the way of the soldier's swords. She jerked to a halt and slung a spell that pulled up the ground in front of one of the demons, knocking it away from the soldier that was preoccupied with a fiery demon of rage. She immediately forgot the demon she'd knocked back, instead focusing her magic on the rage demon. The bloody thing was a walking mound of lava. She called forth a Winter's Grasp spell and amazingly it worked. The demon froze in it's tracks, its arms upraised and it's body looming over the frightened soldier. The claws at the tips of its lava fingers poised to grip him up and rip bloody gashes into his flesh. The scene was surreal for a split second as time slowed and the bolt whipped past Evelyn's head and planted in the demon's chest, shattering the frozen monstrosity.

Evelyn looked down as green ripples of smoke, like ripples on the surface of water, began to form beneath her feet. Light whispers carried over the air like someone calling to her. She backed away as the chanting made the ripples spread. She was knocked off her feet as a new kind of demon shot up from the ground inside the smoke. It was easily ten feet tall and its limbs were long and wiry. It's face was made of one large vertical mouth lined in jagged rows of teeth that stretched down through it's neck and into it's chest. Evelyn froze, her staff forgotten on the ground beside her. The thing reared back, a terrifying shriek deafening her as it howled towards the sky. She clapped her hands over her ears just as a soldier stepped between her and the demon. His shadow blocked out the sun as he held his shield aloft against the demon as it raked claws downwards towards him. Of all things in that moment to catch her eye, she was surprised to notice the armor he wore. It was like none she'd ever seen before. Simple leather pants covered his legs, tucked into battle worn boots covered in plates that were specifically designed to protect his shins and knees. Blowing in the wind was a stark red cloak that was designed to wrap around his body for maximum efficiency and warmth, leaving nothing that might trip him up while he fought. Beneath the cloak was a simple breast plate to protect his body and he wore leather gloves with wrist guards. On the guards she took note of the Templar emblem. So he was a Templar. Why was he not wearing the usual heavy plate that she'd always seen the Templars wear in the circle? She shook her head, dislodging the ridiculous thoughts and scrambled to her feet grabbing up her staff in the time he had bought her. He seemed to have the demon in hand, fighting with vigor and a strange grace she didn't normally associate with Templars as the thick mane of fur around his neck ruffled in the wind. Leaving him to it, she hopped into a jog to help with the rest of the battle. When the demons were slain, and all she could hear was the eerie sound of running water that came along with a rift, she lifted her hand and the mark took over, closing the rift.

“Sealed, as before.” Solas said, his startling approach making her jump. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.” He leaned forward with both hands on his staff and a self satisfied smirk on his face.

“Let's hope it works on the big one,” Varric said a bit less enthusiastically as he stared up at the Breach.

“Lady Cassandra. You've managed to close the rift. Well done,” A new voice entered their midst and Evelyn turned to face the speaker. It was the Templar who had saved her. His accent was distinctly Ferelden and she took in his features. They were sharp and not all too unpleasant to look at. His amber colored eyes were ringed with the signs of exhaustion, but still his tone was upbeat. His blonde hair settled in delicate waves, one piece hanging over his forehead that had come loose from the rest. She took a moment to wonder just how awful her hair must look after everything she'd been through and she ran nervous fingers through it as Cassandra gave her all of the credit for closing the rift and his gaze fell on her. “Is it? Let's hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people getting you here.”

“You're not the only one hoping that,” she blurted, still not sure if she was going to be able to do what they expected of her. Wait, had Cassandra called him 'Commander'?

He looked slightly taken aback before a lopsided grin tugged his mouth to the side, forcing her to notice the scar that ran up the right side of his face from his top lip about an inch. “We'll see soon enough, won't we?” He turned back to Cassandra, all hint of the smirk gone and he said. “The path to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

“Then we'd best move quickly. Give us time, Commander,” Cassandra said, beckoning her and the others to follow.

“Maker watch over you... For all our sakes,” he said softly, the wind nearly carrying his words away before they reached her ears. He jogged off towards where they'd come from and paused to take a limping soldier under his arm and help the man back towards the makeshift camp.

Evelyn tore her gaze from the Commander and followed Cassandra further into the ruins of the temple. The Seeker gasped as she laid eyes on the destruction up close. Apparently she had not been up there yet. There was not much left besides a few broken pillars and rubble. Evelyn stepped forward cautiously, picking her way amidst the corpses that littered the area. Some laid on the ground like any normal body, but most were frozen in a state of utter horror. They were stripped of their skin and their muscles melted away in some places all of the way to the bone. The ones that still had meat on them leaked a rancid stench of burning flesh, the skin charred and mangled. Evelyn remembered reading of bodies that had been found by the dwarves, petrified in an ancient city that had been buried by an active volcano, while they were digging to create the deep roads. She imagined they had looked much like these corpses. Frozen in the moment of their death, forever screaming. She fought the urge to vomit as the wind carried the smell to her. She made her way into a bit of the temple that was still standing and glanced up. Nearly ten meters above the ground was a large rift that was jerking and pulsing, but it was closed. No demons poured from it. Wispy tendrils of green and black snaked from it, rising high into the sky to the Breach that swirled over head. It was strangely warm in the immediate area and Evelyn wondered where the winter air was that had plagued them since she'd left the Chantry back in Haven. “The Breach is a long way up...” Varric said with a sigh.

As she stared up at the seemingly impossible task, her hand itched her and she rubbed it on her leg. Her attention was momentarily drawn to Leliana's voice as she joined them with a unit of soldiers. “You're here. Thank the Maker.”

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple,” Cassandra ordered as Evelyn looked back up at the Breach. Varric was right. Cassandra stepped into her view. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Evelyn flicked her attention down to the warrior before her. “I don't know how I'm supposed to reach it, much less close that thing,” she said, a lump forming in her throat. Was this going to kill her? Were these to be her last moments?

“No. This rift was the first and it is the key. Seal it and perhaps we seal the Breach,” Solas said drolly as if her life weren't on the line.

Cassandra jumped on his words. “Then let's find a way down. And be careful.”

Evelyn sighed taking one last look at the rift before turning to the right to find a way down into the hall where it waited, mocking her. As they passed through the semblance of a building, suddenly a booming voice sounded over head. “NOW IS THE HOUR OF OUR VICTORY. BRING FORTH THE SACRIFICE.”

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked, shock in her voice and a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Solas continued to walk, unphased. “At a guess, the person who created the Breach.”

The voice went quiet momentarily and Evelyn took a moment to be thankful that the voice wasn't hers. She knew she couldn't have caused all of this. The pressing question now was, why did she survive and how had she gotten into the Fade rift that she had fallen out of before the Inquisition soldiers found her? And who was the woman who had reached out to her. It was the only memory she had. A blinding light in the shape of a woman, pulling her to safety. She shuddered at the booming voice and continued on. The piles of rubble and mounds of earth surrounding them pulsed with veins of energy that set Evelyn's teeth on edge. The dim hum of a song buzzed in her head, but she could not tell where it was coming from. Varric whispered as softly as he could over the strange noises of the rift. “You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker?” His tone was agitated and wary.

Evelyn glanced around and saw what he was talking about. Here and there from the walls jutted large pointed crystals. They sparked with an odd electric fog that surrounded their immediate area. Was the heat coming from them? As Evelyn passed by a particularly long spike, Cassandra said. “I see it, Varric.” Her tone was clipped.

“But what's it doing here?” he asked as it the stuff had decided to be where it was.

Evelyn had never seen it's like. She'd handled lyrium plenty of times in the circle but it was always blue and it was never warm. “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it.” Solas suggested.

“Ach... It's evil. Whatever you do, don't touch it,” Varric warned, reaching up and grabbing Evelyn's hand as she reached to do just that. He released her hand with a sigh as she pulled it to her chest and nodded, agreeing not to touch the stuff if she could help it.

The closer to the atrium they came, the more voices they heard. Cassandra heard the voice of Divine Justinia and gasped. When they heard Evelyn's voice, she touched her throat with no memory of speaking the words they were hearing. A short, shadowy play acted out before them. Spirits of the Fade repeating the events from their perspective, offering them a glimpse of a few of the events leading up to the Divine's death. When Cassandra became agitated and said, “You _were_ there! Who attacked? And the Divine... is she...?”

“I don't remember!” Evelyn snapped back with equal frustration.

Solas, the neutral party, drew their attention back to the rift. He explained that the rift was closed, but not sealed. Evelyn would need to re-open it if she wished to seal it properly as she had the others. Wonderful. How was she supposed to open a rift? It wasn't as if she could control the mark. She sighed deeply as the soldiers and archers took up positions in case the opening of the rift attracted attention.

When Cassandra gave her the okay to proceed, she glanced down at her palm which was glowing brightly. She shrugged and mumbled to herself. “Here goes nothing.” She lifted her palm towards the rift and the rift nearly immediately reached back like a child grasping for a piece of candy. Evelyn's arm stung clear up to her shoulder, but the rift opened. She had no chance to reverse the magic and seal the rift before a massive Pride Demon manifested from the other side of the rift. Evelyn stared up at the Demon slack jawed as it bellowed a horrible laugh before a ball of energy appeared between it's palms and lightning crackled around them. She backed away from the demon as it bore down on her. Thankfully the archers on the walls drew it's attention away. It turned its head and roared in anger, throwing it's arm back and a whip of lightning slapping across the open area with a loud crack. Evelyn Fade stepped away, opening a small portal that jumped her a short distance from the thick of the fight. It was not her favorite spell to perform, but it got her away quickly. She landed beside Varric who was rapidly firing repeating bolts from Bianca. “You certainly know how to keep things interesting, Aurora.”

“Aurora?” she asked, calling her magic and deciding which type of spell would be the most effective against the large demon. It seemed to be immune to lightning, so she went with a bit of force to slow it down and then surrounded it with a firestorm while she caught her breath.

He shrugged, reloading the crossbow and resuming the rapid fire. “It sounds a little better than shiny and _way_ better than glowworm.”

Her nose wrinkled and she chuckled. “Yeah, please don't let me go down in history as glowworm.”

He shot her a smirk before returning his attention to the demon. “More coming through the rift!” Cassandra called.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes toward the rift and saw some more smaller demons leaking through the seam. “You keep whittling down that big one,” she said to Varric who nodded almost imperceptibly. “I'll handle the new arrivals.”

She focused her attentions on the two shades who had begun to slither across the field. She whistled noisily, drawing their attention before shifting a firewall spell to the top of her staff and setting the ground between her and the demons ablaze. They reared back as she reluctantly Fade stepped again to pass through them and land behind them, leaving a freezing trail that stopped them from following her. The ice was quickly melting in the blaze from her firewall, so she called another ball of fire to her palm which she released in their direction. She was momentarily thrown off her momentum of spell work when her outstretched palm jerked toward the rift. She watched as the mark took it upon itself to disrupt the flow of energy through the rift. When the mark was finished, her hand fell and the Pride demon let out a wail of pain behind her. She spun to observe what had caused it such pain. It had dropped to a knee and Cassandra was taking full advantage by hacking away at it with her sword. “The mark!” Solas shouted. “You've weakened it!”

Evelyn spun, remembering the other two demons, but they had fallen to the ground dead. “Disrupting the rifts hurts the demons!” She gasped. It was a good bit of information to have. She whirled and began to throw spells at the still kneeling demon, hoping to chip away at it's defenses before it could recover.

Only a few more demons came from the rift in the time it took for them to defeat the Pride demon and Evelyn panted at the drain in her mana reserves. She was ready to reach for a lyrium potion when Cassandra shouted. “Now! Seal the Rift!”

Her posture slumped and she shuffled her feet to face the rift. The magic of the mark crackled eagerly as she lifted her arm towards it. The connection was made and the rift pulled hungrily at the mark. She could feel herself flagging as the magic enveloped her body. The pain was unbearable. Was this what dying felt like? She dropped to her knees, the rift still wrenching her arm upward. Her breath came much more shallowly and she whimpered, losing moments as her body fought oblivion. Finally it was too much and her eye lids fluttered shut. She didn't even remember hitting the ground.

 

She had lost time again, but she was alive. Wonder of wonders. Evelyn's head was throbbing as she slowly peeled her eyes open to glance at her surroundings. It was bright. Much brighter than the temple had been, so she had been moved. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized she was in a small wooden cabin. Her traveling clothes had been stripped and she was redressed in a clean set of simple clothing that felt custom tailored to her. A gasp and a thud drew her attention and she sat up abruptly. Before her stood an elf, dressed in plain clothes. The young woman dropped to her knees apologizing profusely with a nervous stutter. Evelyn swung her legs over the side of the bed she was on and tried to calm the girl. Instead of calming, the girl seemed starstruck. Evelyn couldn't fathom why. All became clear as the girl explained that the Breach was still in the sky but after whatever Evelyn had done it had stopped growing. “They say you saved us,” the elf blurted.

When Evelyn tried to question her further, the elf simply got up from her knees and backed out quickly saying that Cassandra had wanted to see her when she awoke in the Chantry. At once. Evelyn sighed, lifting her hand to study the now much more calm mark. It still looked odd as it traced across her palm, following the natural crease beneath her fingers. She looked away and glanced around realizing the elf had dropped the laundry she'd been carrying. Evelyn ignored the worn travelers clothes as her attention was drawn to an unlocked chest with a parchment atop it with 'Aurora' scrawled on it in somehow both delicate and blocky letters. She set the parchment on the desk as she knelt in front of the chest. Lifting the lid, she was graced with a collection of several styles of armor and robes. She glanced up at the window above the desk and saw the light dusting of snow falling and dug for something warm. She was tired of freezing her fingers off while trying to cast her spells. She pulled out a set of light armor that was clearly of Avvar design. She stripped the pajama like clothes she'd woken up in and snuggled into the superiorly warm furs. They fit tight to her body but they were warmer than anything she'd ever worn. Pulling the thin gloves on over her hands, she noticed that in the left hand there was a slit sewn into the palm to show off the mark and allow it's use without having to remove her glove. “Thank you, Varric,” she said to herself with a slight tilt to her lips as she smiled. She would need to thank him in person if she saw him.

Making a mental note, she looked around for a staff but unsurprisingly there were none in the cabin. Even if she had saved them, they still didn't trust her with a weapon. She folded the pajamas neatly, stacking them on the bed and checked her hair in the looking glass. Someone had apparently washed her up along with her clothes. Her hair was clean and shinier than it had been in months. She tucked one side behind an ear and decided she was ready to face Cassandra. Her palms were sweating. Was she still going to be put on trial for murdering all of those people at the conclave? Surely with all the witnesses to the voices at the temple, they couldn't still suspect her. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she pictured the twisted and deformed corpses that had been all around. So many wasted lives. Why was hers so important that she'd survived? She pushed the door of the cabin open and immediately regretted stepping outside. She stopped dead in her tracks as hundreds of eyes fell on her in awe and curiosity. She felt heat rush to her cheeks. She hadn't felt like she was under so much scrutiny since the day of her Harrowing. It was too late to turn back now, so she steeled herself and pulled the door shut behind her. The rows of people lined her path, soldiers, civilians, servants, all craning their necks to get a look at her. It was never a good sign as a mage for so many people to be interested in you. Whispers followed her, telling of her supposed heroism, as well as the whispers of those who weren't so enchanted. She ignored all of them as best she could, trying to snake her way to the Chantry through the flock. Once she was inside the hallowed walls, she closed the doors behind her and leaned her back against the heavy wood with a sigh of relief. The Chantry was dimly lit with candles lining the wide entry way. The pews that were normally lined up to face the altar had been stacked and slid against the walls to accommodate the bustle of the goings on. Evelyn walked as quietly as she could toward the back of the entry where she could hear raised voices behind a door directly in the center of the wall. “Have you gone completely mad?” she heard the Chancellor's voice as clear as day. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately to be tried by whomever becomes Divine.”

The next voice to rise was Cassandra's. “I do not believe she is guilty.”

“The mage failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way.” the Chancelor argued.

“I do not believe that,” Cassandra's voice was insistent.

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My _duty_ is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.” Evelyn found herself pressed against the door, listening intently and trying to gauge the atmosphere into which she was about to walk. If the Chancellor had any sway, she was in deep water.

She sighed and pushed the door open to step inside. The Chancellor pounced almost immediately. “Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the Capitol for trial.”

Evelyn's breath caught in her chest as she noticed the two Templars in full plate guarding the door that she had just walked through. _Shit_. Cassandra was just as quick as the Chancelor however and she growled. “Disregard that. And leave us.”

Evelyn released her breath as the Templars saluted with fists to their chests and followed out Cassandra's orders. As they closed the door behind them, Evelyn shot the Chancellor a victorious smirk as she approached the large table that he, Cassandra and Leliana stood around. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

Cassandra moved from where she stood to tower over the man. “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will _not_ ignore it.” The candle light cast shadows on her face, making her already high cheekbones and chiseled jaw stand out more starkly and the deep scar across her left cheek look more menacing. Evelyn was definitely glad that the warrior was on her side.

“So I'm still a suspect? Even after what we just did?” Evelyn asked cautiously, gauging everyone's reactions to her when she spoke.

“You absolutely _are_.” The Chancellor grumbled.

“No. She is not,” Cassandra said with more finality.

Leliana spoke up finally lending her voice to the fray. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did _not_ expect. Perhaps they died with the others...” Her blue eyes flicked menacingly toward the Chancelor. “Or have allies who yet live.”

The Chancellor took a step back. “ _I_ am a suspect?”

“ _You._ ” Leliana confirmed. “And many others.”

“But _not_ the prisoner?” The Chancelor asked in shock.

“I heard the voices in the temple,” Cassandra said. “The Divine called to her for help.”

“So, her survival... That thing on her hand... all a coincidence?” the Chancellor asked skeptically as Evelyn crossed her arms under her chest.

“Providence,” Cassandra corrected. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Evelyn dropped her arms. Had Cassandra just called her a chosen one? “You realize I'm a mage?” She reminded the woman skeptically. She believed in the Maker like any good Andrastian, but to be spoken of as if you were sent by the Maker because of some destiny. That was a bit much.

“I have not forgotten,” Cassandra said with a gentle smile and a light bow of her head. “No matter what you are or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

Evelyn averted her gaze, again feeling the heat rush to her face. Leliana spoke next. “The Breach remains. And your mark is still our only hope of closing it,” she said softly.

“It is not for you to decide!” the Chancellor spoke up again.

While Leliana had distracted him, Cassandra had fetched a large heavy book from a shelf behind her. She slammed the book down on the table and jammed a finger at it. “Do you know what this is, Chancellor?” The symbol of the Chantry blazed on it's cover and Evelyn was curious. She stepped closer to look at the book. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” Cassandra removed her finger from the book and bore down on the man, that same finger nearly jabbing him in the chest as he backed away. “We will close the Breach. We will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval.”

The Chancellor narrowed his eyes and looked between the three of them before realizing he was outnumbered. He turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Cassandra's shoulders slumped and she reached up to nervously scratch at her short cropped black hair before dismissively waving that same hand in the direction of the door. Evelyn leaned her palms on the table over the book. Her heart was fluttering rapidly as she stared at the Andrastian Sun on the cover. “This is the Divine's directive,” Leliana preached passionately, her gloved fingertips touching the book reverently. “Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers and now, no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice. We must act now...” Cassandra added. “With _you_ at our side.”

Evelyn looked up. _Who me?_ Both Leliana and Cassandra were watching her intently. She flinched but sighed. They needed her mark. If it kept her out from under Templar scrutiny, she would help. “When I woke up, I certainly didn't picture this outcome,” she quipped.

“Neither did we,” Leliana said, smiling from beneath her purple hood.

“Help us fix this before it's too late,” Cassandra reached out her right hand with hope in her eyes.

Evelyn grinned, and then grasped Cassandra's forearm with her right hand. Cassandra's fingers wrapped around her arm as well and they shook in agreement. The following few hours were a flurry of excitement. Evelyn got herself out from under foot as the Inquisition basically took over the entire village of Haven. She wandered the streets, acquainting herself with her surroundings. She found Varric not too far from the Chantry by a roaring campfire. He was delicately oiling his crossbow and Evelyn shuffled up beside him. “So!” he said, noting her presence and setting the crossbow down carefully. “Now that Cassandra's out of earshot, are you holding up alright? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”

Evelyn chuckled. “I don't even know what's happening anymore.”

“That makes two of us,” Varric mused. “For days now, we've been staring up at the Breach watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. 'Bad for morale' would be an understatement. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived.”

“I'm still not sure I believe that any of this is happening,” she joked, although the joke was not altogether untrue.

“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there's a damn good punch line coming. You might wanna consider running at the first opportunity. I've written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I've seen that. But the hole in the sky? That's beyond heroes... We're going to need a miracle.” He sighed again and picked up the crossbow, returning to his meticulous care.

She watched his fingers caress over the wood and almost forgot why she had approached him in the first place. “You know, I meant to thank you.” He glanced up at her, one brow higher than the other. “For the clothes...” she reminded him, gesturing to the furs she still wore.

“Oh, right,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Harritt crafted the stuff. I just gave him your measurements.”

“Well, whatever your role, I really appreciate it. I thought I was going to freeze to death in my old clothes.”

“It's not a problem, Aurora. Really.” Getting the impression he wasn't really in the mood to chat, she began to turn and walk away, but he kicked his leg out, pushing a short log in her direction. “It'll be hours before the big wigs have gotten everything settled. Join me by the fire.”

She smiled and folded her legs to sit on the stump. Listening to Varric tell tales was certainly an entertaining way to pass the time. She was having a wonderful time just getting to know the dwarf when one of Leliana's people approached her. “My Lady Herald. Seeker Pentaghast has asked to see you in the War Room.”

'Lady Herald?' she lipped to Varric with a frown on her face. He shrugged and nodded for her to follow the young man. What was this all about? Had she been given a title that she didn't know about? The messenger led her to the Chantry doors where Cassandra met her. Without a word, Cassandra turned and headed inside. Evelyn followed closely, her palm itching. She lifted her hand to gaze at the still foreign addition to her anatomy. “Does it trouble you?” Cassandra asked, halting their stride.

Evelyn dropped her hand back down to her side.”I just wish I knew what it was or how I got it.” No matter how much Cassandra may believe Evelyn was chosen by Andraste, she couldn't bring herself to believe it.

“We will find out. What's important is that your mark is now stable, as it the Breach. You've given us time and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed, provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by,” Cassandra said with a reassuring grin. The more time Evelyn spent with Cassandra, the more the woman surprised her with the soft spots in her personality.

Evelyn grinned. “What harm can there be in powering up something we barely understand?” Her tone said she was clearly teasing and Cassandra picked up on it.

“Hold on to that sense of humor,” The warrior smirked, beginning to head towards the open rear door where only hours before they had agreed to rebuild the Inquisition. _I suppose this is the war room now_ , Evelyn thought as she followed closely behind. The room didn't look much different. There were a few heraldic additions and three people stood behind the table which had been covered in a map of all southern Thedas. Two of the faces were familiar, but the third was new. “You've met Commander Cullen. Leader of the Inquisition's forces,” Cassandra said, her palm outstretched to indicate the Templar who had saved her on the field.

He wore the same strange armor he'd been wearing on the field although it had been cleaned up since she'd seen him last. He had also tamed the stray bit of hair that she had noticed out of place before. His lips quirked in the same lopsided smile. “It was only for a moment on the field. I'm pleased you survived.”

Before she could respond with ' _That makes two of us'_ , Cassandra bullied ahead. “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet. Our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

The new face smiled brightly. Her dark skin and dark hair marked her as Antivan before she even opened her mouth and spoke in her rolling accent. “I've heard much,” she said inclining her head. “It's a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“And of course you know Sister Leliana.” Cassandra continued.

“My position here involves a degree of...”

Before she could finish, Cassandra finished for her. “She is our spymaster.”

“Yes,” Leliana said with a sigh. “Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

All of their eyes fell on Evelyn and she realized it was finally her turn to speak. “Well, that's an impressive bunch of titles,” she grinned. Glancing between them all, she saw Leliana trying to hide a small grin of her own. Cullen's eyes were fixed on her and the mark on her hand, but his lips were still quirked upwards. Josephine had busied herself with scribbling frantically on a parchment stacked on top of a pile of others that were clipped to a flat bit of wood that had a narrow space at the top which angled away from the rest to hold a small ink well on one side and a candle for light on the other. It was a handy bit of ingenuity.

Cassandra seemed ready to dive right in to business and she said, “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana suggested quickly, drawing a shocked gasp from Evelyn who had not expected anyone to want to deal with any more of her kind.

“I still disagree,” Cullen interjected, shaking his head. His palms rested on his sword hilt, not as a threat, but simply as a place to put his hands. His fingers were loose and his stance relaxed, or as relaxed as the Commander of an army could be Evelyn supposed. “The Templars could serve just as well.” Evelyn frowned. Templars were trained to suppress magic, not power it up. What did the Commander have in mind?

Cassandra sighed and spoke Evelyn's thoughts. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark...”

“Might destroy us all,” he finished before she had a chance. “Templars could suppress the Breach... Weaken it so that...” One of his hands left the sword hilt to gesture strictly before him.

“Pure speculation,” Leliana interrupted, her hands clasped calmly behind her back, her hips swaying gently as she shifted from one foot to the next.

“ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they're capable of,” Cullen insisted, his voice barely a whisper. _Was_ a Templar? No wonder he no longer wore their armor. Evelyn was now interested.

“Unfortunately neither group will even speak to us yet,” Josephine piped up, using her quill to gesture emphatically. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition and _you_ specifically.” The point of the quill pointed at Evelyn.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “That didn't take long,” she said, not surprised in the least after Chancellor Roderick's reaction to her.

“Shouldn't they be busy arguing over who's going to become Divine?” the Commander asked, the hand gesturing again. He seemed personally put off by the denouncement judging by the scowl that twisted his lips. Evelyn caught herself watching those lips as he spoke.

“Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste and that frightens the Chantry,” Josephine said in a bubbly voice. “The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

Evelyn's brows rose in shock as Cassandra spat, “Chancellor Roderick's doing, no doubt.”

“It limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question,” Josephine said with finality, punctuating her words with a sharp tap of her quill to the paper.

Evelyn held up her hand before this got any further. “Just how am _I_ the 'Herald of Andraste'?” she squeaked.

“People saw what you did at the temple. How you stopped the Breach from growing,” Cassandra pointed out. “They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

Evelyn balked. She hadn't realized anyone had seen the woman but herself. “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading...” Leliana began.

“Which we have not,” Cassandra added.

“The point is, everyone is talking about it,” Leliana said with a nod.

“It's quite the title isn't it,” the Commander said drawing her attention back to him. His smirk had returned, replacing the scowl of disgust he'd harbored for the clerics. “How do you feel about it?”

Evelyn found herself massaging her thumb into the mark on her palm and fidgeting. No one else had deemed it necessary to ask her opinion on the matter. She glanced around the room at the leaders of the Inquisition and almost found herself at a loss for words. “It's a little unsettling,” she said, biting her lip as she stuttered out the words. She wanted to scream how unfair it was to heap so much pressure on her, but that would be counterproductive. She was a mage. She'd been dealing with unfair pressure since she was a child.

Somehow, the Commander's snort of amusement made her feel a bit better. “I'm sure the Chantry would agree.”

“People are desperate for a sign of hope,” Leliana explained in her soft voice. “For some, you're that sign.”

“And to others, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong,” Josephine added, not making Evelyn feel any better.

“So if I wasn't with the Inquisition...” Evelyn began.

“Let's be honest, they would have censured us no matter what,” the Commander reassured her.

“And you not being here isn't an option,” Cassandra added.

“There _is_ something you can do,” Leliana said with a reassuring smile. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you. She is not far and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“Why would someone from the Chantry help a declared heretic?” Evelyn asked skeptically.

“I understand she is a reasonable woman. Perhaps she does not agree with her sisters. You will find Mother Giselle tending the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe,” Leliana explained.

The Commander's voice drew her attention to him again. “Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition's influence while you're there,” he suggested.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley and you're better suited than anyone to recruit them,” Josephine agreed.

“In the meantime, let's think of other options. I won't leave this all to the Herald,” Cassandra insisted, pulling some of the weight from Evelyn's shoulders.

 


	2. The Herald of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn accepts the burden of a title she is uncertain she is worthy of.

After she had her assignment, Evelyn was free to go. She slunk from the war room feeling more than a bit overwhelmed. The Herald of Andraste? What were they thinking? She wandered past the collection of tents set up outside the Chantry, her arms wrapped around her waist as the rest of the Inquisition scurried around taking care of business. She paused momentarily when she heard a soft gasp to her right as she passed between a large spartan tent and another smaller tent that had been closed to her view. In front of the smaller tent was a table cluttered with papers held down against the wind by rocks. They seemed to be lists of some sort. “Oh shit, you're her.”

Her gaze fell on a woman in clothing that looked to have come from Orlais, judging by the hat, but her accent was Fereldan. “Can I help you?” Evelyn asked, automatically.

“My name's Threnn,” the woman said, holding out her hand in greeting. “Inquisition Quartermaster.” Her smile was pleasant, but her brows were knitted together in a frown. “Of course we all know who you are, my Lady.”

Evelyn nodded and took the offered hand, shaking gently. “Evelyn, please,” she corrected. She'd never been more than just Evelyn. Threnn's brow rose ever so slightly, the frown still prominent. Evelyn sighed and spoke to draw the woman's attention from her circumstances to something else. “You look troubled, Threnn. How are the Inquisition's supplies?”

The woman sighed. “We're still getting set up, but so far we're a bit thin. I'm trying to arm hundreds of recruits with very little.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Evelyn asked, unsure if she was really the person to help, but willing to try if it would help take her mind from her situation. She had an entire afternoon and evening free. Sitting around dwelling was not going to get her anywhere so she may as well be useful.

Threnn eyed her with curiosity. “Well, I suppose...” her voice trailed off.

“Anything, really,” Evelyn pressed, eager for a task to busy her mind.

“If you could search the area around Haven for a good logging site and possible places to mine some iron, I could send some of the boys to work. We wouldn't need to worry about getting supplies in if they were already on hand,” Threnn suggested, flipping through some of the papers on her table.

Evelyn joined her, peering down at the collection of requests. “Is this everything folks need?”

“Most of it. Our most pressing issue is the materials.” Threnn sighed, dropping the rock in her palm back to the table and sighing.

“You know, we'll be heading to the Hinterlands tomorrow morning. If I find anything you really need, I might be able to help. If I can't bring it back, I can definitely let you know where to find it,” Evelyn offered.

Threnn cracked her first real smile, the furrow in her brow smoothing. “Sister Nightingale has been trying to extend our network, but everywhere we go, our officers report more things we need. Perhaps when you set up an outpost, you could help out the requisitions officers. They'll let you know what they need.”

“Of course,” Evelyn agreed. She turned to leave but stopped herself. “I've a few questions if you don't mind?” Threnn nodded and Evelyn continued. “I was wondering where I might be able to get some potions mixed up. And before we leave in the morning, I'll need a staff.”

Threnn smiled again and pointed. “For the potions, you'll want Adan. There's none better. He's set up an apothecary in an old house beside the Chantry. As for the staff, you could probably get Harritt to craft you one. See him soon though if you want it made before you leave. He's a bit bogged down at the moment as you can imagine. Go outside the large gate at the bottom of the hill and turn towards the stables on the left. You can't miss the smithy.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn said, tipping her head before Threnn resumed her duties. She made her way towards the apothecary and stepped into the darkened hut. All around the ceiling, there were various herbs swinging gently in the breeze coming in the window as they dried for future use. A mixing table sat to the left and to the right a table covered in recipes and notes where Adan apparently was experimenting with different mixtures.

She jumped as a voice called out from the darkness to her left. “Ah, look who's back, and still in one piece.”

She spun to see a man with his hair shorn close to bald with an impressive pointed goatee and wearing mage's robes. Adan she guessed. “It _has_ been a rough few days,” she agreed choking out a laugh around her racing heart.

He sized her up, before saying. “I'm just glad I was able to keep you alive.”

“You were the physician who attended me?” she asked.

He let out a sound as if phlegm were caught in his throat before correcting her. “I am an alchemist, not a physician, but yes I looked after you for three days while you raved in your sleep.”

“Three days?” Evelyn asked. She hadn't realized she'd been out for so long.”What was I saying?”

Adan huffed and stood from his chair. “I took notes...” he shuffled around in a pile on the desk in front of him while the scent of boiling deep mushroom began to permeate the air around her. “Ah here we are.” He passed her a few sheets of parchment and she pocketed them for future reference. “So what brings you here?”

“Threnn said I could get some potions from you before we leave for the Hinterlands tomorrow,” she said leadingly as he shuffled across the room to tend to the mushrooms.

“She spoke true, though supplies are low,” he sighed. He flapped a hand to a small chest on the far side of the room. “I've got healing elixirs and lyrium potions in there that I've already mixed up. Take what you need. I'm afraid it's all I had the means to brew up.”

Evelyn was starting to see a trend. “If I find any herbs that might be useful, I can bring them back here for you if you wish,” She suggested. So long as she was hunting for Threnn, she might as well hunt for Adan as well.

He grunted. “Bring me all the Elfroot you can find.”

“Can do,” she agreed, kneeling and opening the chest to find quite a few glowing phials of the red healing elixirs and blue lyrium potions. “Thank you.” He grunted once more as she attached the phials to the belt on her hip.

When she stepped back into the sun, it was almost too bright after being in the dark hut. How did Adan see to scribble all of those notes? She blinked the spots from before her eyes and then started away from the building to see if she might find the blacksmith. Directly to her right, she saw Solas standing quietly and looking up at the Breach. She had a few questions for him, so she altered her course to stand beside him. He glanced away from the Breach to regard her. “The chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all,” he mocked, clearly amused by the situation.

“Am I riding in on a shining steed?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“I would have suggested a griffin, but sadly, they're extinct... Joke if you will, but posturing is necessary.” He stepped away from her, his hands unclasping from where he'd had them behind his back. He paced a few steps before saying. “I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations.” She moved to stand beside him again as passion entered his voice. “I've watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past and ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” He paused to turn toward her with a small smile on his full lips. “Every great war has it's heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be.”

“What do you mean 'ruins and battlefields'?” she asked with curiosity.

“Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history,” he explained. “Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

She was in awe. Before her stood a mage who was not afraid of the Fade and the spirits that dwelled there. In the Circle, she had been taught to be wary of the Fade, that it was full of temptation and danger for mages. Possession was a very real fear. But Solas embraced the Fade. “You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins?” she asked, her mind racing. “Isn't that dangerous?”

“I _do_ set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.” From his expression, Evelyn was beginning to see why Varric had decided to nickname Solas 'chuckles'.

“I imagine you find some amazing things in there... Alongside all of the demons,” she said nervously finding her hands wringing.

“Exactly! It is occasionally dangerous, yes. But more often it is just sad to see what has been lost. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for anything.” Solas was certainly one of a kind. He glanced back at the Breach. “I will stay then. At least until the Breach has been closed.”

She hummed a single soft chuckle. “Was that in doubt?”

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you, _I_ do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution,” he almost snipped.

“The giant hole in the sky trumps any other concerns,” she said back, her own voice a bit clipped. “We can worry about the rest later.”

“Yes. Who can say what this world will look like when we are done fighting for it. For now, let us hope that either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach.” He must have realized how argumentative he had sounded because his voice was much less gruff.

She took her own calming breath. She really couldn't blame him. She was not altogether comfortable with the Templar presence around Haven either. “I was heading to the blacksmith to have a staff made, then into the outskirts of Haven to hunt down some iron and logging sites for Threnn. Would you care to join me? I'd love to hear more about your Fade dreams.”

“I'd like that,” he said, tipping his head. He grabbed his own staff and pulled his coat on.

“Don't your feet get cold?” she asked, noting his persistent lack of shoes in this freezing atmosphere.

He chuckled softly. “No,” was his short answer.

She shrugged and led him off toward Harritt who agreed to have a staff ready for her in the morning. The rest of her day was spent getting to know Solas in a much more personal light. He kept many things well guarded about himself, but he was more than willing to share stories of things he'd witnessed in the Fade. They wandered the countryside, sussing out veins of iron in the mountains and a few good logging sites where there were no rifts or demons to terrorize the workers if they were sent out to fetch what was needed. Evelyn was even able to uproot more than enough Elfroot to make Adan smile.

She shuffled through Haven, trying to find her way back to the cabin where she'd woken up. A difficult task in the dark of night. She had worked so hard at keeping her mind off of the crushing weight of being labeled the Herald of Andraste that she was exhausted. She was watching the ground as she walked, careful not to trip. Instead, she collided with something ahead of her. She stopped and looked up, realizing that what she had hit was a person. “Maker, I'm sorry,” she apologized, a flush coming to her cheeks.

“No, it was my fault. I should have been watching where...” He stopped mid sentence as he realized who he was speaking to. “Lady Herald. Apologies.” His hand lifted to rub the back of his neck, the other full of papers. He looked absolutely adorable as he shuffled his feet sheepishly.

She almost forgot to answer as she watched him glance at her in awe and then look away, slight color in his lightly stubbled cheeks. She clamped her gaping mouth shut and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Please, don't call me that, Commander,” she whispered pleadingly. She glanced down at the ground, toeing the dirt with her boot.

“Right,” he said quickly. “At the meeting, you said it made you uncomfortable...” He paused, the arm rubbing his neck dropping as he let out a sigh. “I'm sorry, Lady Trevelyan.” The papers he was carrying rustled in the wind as he finally looked back at her again.

She scoffed. “I'm no Lady, Commander. Evelyn will be fine.”

He shook his head, ready to argue. “Your family...”

“Are nobles,” she agreed, cutting him off. “But I'm a mage... Come now. Say it with me Ev-e-lyn.”

He grinned as she repeated her name again, phonetically and slowly pronouncing it several times before he rolled his eyes and his voice joined hers. “Evelyn.” She decided she liked the way her name rolled off his tongue.

“There, Commander. That wasn't so hard, was it?” she asked, her hip cocking to the side as she regarded him. His smirk pulled up the right side of his face again, but underneath the smile, there was that same tired look to his eyes. Her own smile faltered a bit as she tried to figure him out.

“I may have pulled something,” he said jovially, his free hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “If I am to call you by your name, I might ask the same courtesy. You've been calling me Commander, but Josie and Leliana you use their names.”

Her smile returned as she realized she had been placing that barrier on herself. “I suppose... It's just, I was raised in a Circle. You don't generally get on a first name basis with Templars.”

“Well, I am no longer a Templar. I think Cullen will do just fine,” he said with a mild bitterness at his former distinction. What _was_ his story? Evelyn was determined to find out, but she was genuinely too tired to delve into it at the moment. She opened her mouth to speak as he shifted his weight, looking almost as tired as she was. The papers in his hand caught the wind as he turned his body and he cursed as a few of them took off across the area toward the smithy. Evelyn threw up her hands, a magical barrier at the tip of her awareness that she automatically called down around the blowing parchments. They stopped in the dead air inside her barrier, slapping into the side before fluttering to the ground. Embarrassed at her blatant display of magic in front of the former Templar, she scurried toward the barrier, crossing inside her own magic to gather the papers. Once she had them all, she hugged them to her chest and released the magic holding the barrier in place. She turned and glanced at him sheepishly before starting back toward him. He met her halfway and she carefully held tight to the papers as she passed them back to him. “Uh, Thanks,” he said, his fingers brushing hers as he secured the papers.

Instead of saying 'you're welcome', like she should have, she couldn't look at him, for fear of the disgust she was certain was painted on his face. “Sorry,” she said instead, wringing her hands together.

“Sorry?” he asked, his voice genuinely surprised. She glanced up to see puzzlement in his eyes as they flicked over her, trying to figure her out as much as she wanted to figure him out. “What are you sorry for? You just saved me hours of work.”

“I just thought... my magic...” she stumbled over her words and he flinched.

The next sentence that came from his mouth was a little more forced than the rest of their conversation. It told her there was something in his past that he was working extremely hard to move on from. “As I said, I am no longer a Templar. 'Magic exists to serve man', right?”

“Yes, Cullen. I've heard the Chant of Light,” she smirked, the expression not reaching her eyes. She wanted to chase away whatever demons the conversation had brought to light, but she felt as if she were walking on eggshells. He was certainly an enigma. What had she said to trigger his discomfort? Whatever it was, she wished to avoid doing it again. Cullen was much more pleasant when he was smiling.

He cleared his throat and his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck again. She noted his nervous tick. “Were you heading somewhere in particular when you crashed into me?” he asked, swallowing the last bit of unease in his tone.

“ _I_ crashed into _you_?” she asked, mockingly affronted, crossing her arms. He nodded with a smirk and she pursed her lips. “As a matter of fact... I was definitely lost.” she admitted.

“Lost?” he asked. “In Haven? Forgive my shock, but how are you lost?”

She settled into her hip as she glared at him. “When I woke up this morning, the path to the Chantry was pretty well laid out for me by the hundreds of villagers gawping at me. I was in more than a rush to get out from under that scrutiny. I honestly do not remember in the slightest which cabin I woke up in.”

He chuckled light-heartedly and then gestured for her to follow. “Then allow me to walk you home, Evelyn. You look exhausted.”

She sighed, even as he teased her with a twinkle in his eye. “It's pretty late,” she said as she fell into step beside him. “Does the Commander of the Inquisition not get to rest?”

He hummed a thoughtful response before speaking. “I'm hoping things will settle down, once we've established ourselves, but I'm not optimistic.”

“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” she agreed with a sigh.

“Cassandra says you'll be leaving for the Hinterlands in the morning,” he eluded.

“So I'm told. I just hope this 'Mother Giselle' will be as helpful as the Nightingale believes. Has Leliana ever been wrong?” she asked.

Cullen's face screwed up in an unfamiliar expression. She couldn't place it, like it was one of amusement mixed together with a healthy dose of reverence. “In my experience, nobody has yet dared to question either hand of the Divine. Especially not Leliana. She is... a bit frightening if you ask me.”

“Leliana? Are we talking about the same spymaster?” Evelyn asked, chuckling a bit.

“Don't let the freckles and soft voice fool you. That woman is terrifying,” Cullen admitted, a shudder creeping down his spine as he stopped in front of a small cabin just inside Haven's gates.

“Well then I guess it's a good thing she's on our side,” Evelyn said, realizing she was on familiar territory.

Cullen glanced behind him and then back to her. “Well, this is it,” he gestured to the cabin. “Get some sleep, Evelyn. You've a long journey ahead of you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Cullen,” she said as she moved to pass him on his right. She lifted her hand to give him a thankful pat, but thought better of it. Perhaps touching the former Templar might trigger more awkwardness between them. As she pulled her hand away, she said, “Good night.”

“Sleep well,” he said as a short sigh escaped his lips to be carried away by the wind.

She opened the door of the cabin and stepped inside. It was pitch black without the shine of the moon and she shuffled forward then tripped quite thoroughly over the basket she remembered the young elf had dropped in her rush to abase herself before the Herald. Evelyn let out a frustrated noise of disgust and pushed herself back to her feet. It was then that she noticed the soft glow coming from the mark on her palm. She pulled her glove off to allow it to fully shine. It was still dim, but it was enough to give her light to see by. “Well isn't that handy?” she muttered to herself and then almost immediately snorted and burst into a fit of giggles as she realized what she had said. Too bad Varric hadn't been there. He would have enjoyed the pun. She made her way to the bed and dropped onto the straw mattress with a deep sigh as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She wasn't certain if it had come from the laughter or if the truth of her situation was hitting her. Either way, she was too tired to care. She rolled onto her side, resting her marked palm under her cheek to block the glow from the room and yawned. Tomorrow was a new day. Perhaps being the Herald wasn't going to be so bad.

 

The trek to the Hinterlands sucked, for lack of a better term. They had to go on foot because the Inquisition had no horses. _One more thing on my to do list,_ Evelyn thought as they finally came upon a small encampment at the top of a hill overlooking a small village. The area was lined with tents and tables and Inquisition forces. She was looking forward to sitting down for a minute and resting her feet. They had been walking all day from sun up to sun down, at Cassandra's insistence, for ten days. They would have gotten there a few days sooner, but they had had to slow their pace to allow Varric to keep up on his shorter legs. She crossed into the perimeter of the camp, leaning heavily on her staff. Harritt had done marvelous work. The shaft was smooth as silk and varnished with an oil he had enhanced with a lyrium mixture that Adan had provided. Runes were etched all up and down it, allowing for it to absorb any form of spell. A retractable blade was fitted into the base 'in case the beasties get too close' and the other end was adorned with an ornamental fixture in the shape of a Dragon, its wings extended upward to encircle the attuning crystal inside (a fire crystal that augmented her fire spells, giving them a longer burn time and the ability to cast more often using less mana).

Before she could sit, however, they were approached by a female dwarf. She was dressed in Inquisition armor and she had a friendly smile on her severely freckled face. Her hair was pulled up and braided into the back of her head. “Herald of Andraste! I've heard the stories... Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. Everyone's a little nervous around mages right now, but you'll get no back talk here. That's a promise. Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I... all of us here will do whatever we can to help.”

“Harding, huh?” Varric asked, a devious smirk on his face. “Ever been to Kirkwall's Hightown?”

Harding cocked her head towards Varric, a frown on her face. “I can't say I have, why?”

“You'd be Harding in...” Varric paused as Cassandra glared at him. “Oh, never mind.”

A disgusted noise rose from Cassandra as it did most often when Varric opened his mouth. Evelyn grinned and turned to Harding. “I'm starting to worry about these stories that everyone's heard,” she said as Harding began to smile again.

“Oh, there's nothing to worry about. They only say you're the last great hope for Thedas.” Evelyn sighed in relief at the teasing. It was nice to meet someone who could take the pressure and make a joke about it.

“Oh, wonderful,” Evelyn rolled her eyes and Harding snorted softly before regaining herself.

“The Hinterlands are as good a place as any to start... 'fixing' things. We came to secure horses from Redcliffe's old horsemaster. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet's herds were the strongest and the fastest this side of the Frostbacks, but with the mage/templar fighting getting worse, we couldn't get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he's even still alive. Mother Giselle's at the Crossroads, helping the refugees and wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won't be able to hold out very long. You'd best get going. No time to lose.” Harding's report was concise and a bit emotional.

“So much for sitting down,” Evelyn mumbled as Harding left them to attend to a Raven that had just arrived.

After a report from the requisitions officer in the area, Evelyn found herself leading their group down the hill they were on and around the cliff side to the Crossroads where Mother Giselle awaited her. When they reached the perimeter of the small village, Cassandra called out from behind her and sprinted ahead. “Inquisition forces they're trying to protect the people!”

 _What do they need protecting from?_ Evelyn wondered as she followed after Cassandra at a jog. She was pulling her staff from the strap on her back when she stopped dead in her tracks and gaped. Solas sprinted past her much like Cassandra had and began to sling spells like he was fighting demons. But these were no demons. A fight had broken out in the village between a few small factions of mages and templars. Varric was scurrying to catch the others when he noticed she had stopped. “Something the matter, Aurora?” he called to her, pausing his run, but still loading bolts into Bianca.

She had stopped mid stride, her hand wrapped around her staff, but could not bring herself to complete the motion. “They're people,” she said softly as she glanced at Varric.

He frowned for a moment before he realized what she was hung up on. His eyes flicked around, scanning the immediate area for threats and then grabbed her forearm to drag her with him. “Stay behind me.”

He made his way into the fray and began taking people down, one bolt at a time as Cassandra used her Seeker's powers to dim the magics and talents of mage and templar alike. Solas was erecting barriers left and right and slamming his foes with a strange kind of magic that she was not familiar with. He had been experimenting with the new energy in the world being leaked by the Breach. The spells were damned effective.

Evelyn stood and watched, her mouth agape, flinching each time another person fell to her people. Nausea engulfed her, but she had no time to let it settle as Varric moved away from her in the flow of the battle and she was charged by a Templar who recognized her staff. She instinctively threw up a barrier to keep him from her, but he easily dispelled it. She backed away, her palms raised in placation, but the man was crazed. He rushed her again and she tripped on a broken piece of fencing in the road and fell to the ground. She fumbled for her staff to at least block the swing of his sword, but at the angle she was sitting, she could not get it dislodged from the strap. In a last ditch effort to save her life, she reached down towards the ground in front of her, her fingers dancing to trace the glyph in the air before she connected with the ground. The spell she'd chosen she would have changed could she have reversed time. She watched as the spell surrounded the templar, stopping him cold and the cylinder slowly closed around him, crushing his body. He dropped his weapons but they were trapped in the spell with him. His sword lifted from the ground, pointing upwards toward him. His eyes bulged as the weight of the spell dented his plate armor and pushed it against his flesh to cut off his oxygen, suffocating him in his own armor. He tried to reach up to claw at his throat, his skin turning blue, but his arms were pinned to his sides. She could not tear her eyes away from the horror that she had inflicted on the poor man. Her vision was blurry and she realized that she was seeing through tears. “I'm sorry,” she whispered as the spell diminished and the templar fell dead at her feet. She blinked and pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her shins. She didn't care if she was in the middle of a battle field. She deserved to die for what she'd done.

She jerked as a hand fell on her shoulder. “It's okay, Aurora.” Varric soothed as she silently allowed tears to stream down her face. His hand didn't leave her shoulder until Cassandra and Solas approached.

“What did you do?” Cassandra accused him as she bounded forward.

“No!” Evelyn stopped her, getting to her feet and quickly sniffing back her tears and drying her eyes. “Varric didn't do anything.”

Solas looked at her with inquisitive eyes while Varric saved her the embarrassment of having to admit it herself. “She's never killed a man before.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak and then quickly closed it again. When it opened the second time, she simply said, “Oh. I... understand.”

Evelyn inhaled a deep breath and pushed her hair back with both hands. “It's alright. I'll be fine. I... I just need a minute.” Her hands were shaking and she busied them, kneeling to close the dead templar's eyes. “Who knew the Herald of Andraste was squeamish about murder?” she said a bit more loudly than she probably should have and the laugh that followed it was verging on sounding maniacal.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” Cassandra said with a hint of what Evelyn translated as pride in her voice. “It should feel wrong to take another life.”

Solas stepped forward. “But the fact remains that _he_ intended to kill you.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of self defense,” Varric added, his voice sad as if he was mourning the loss of her innocence.

Evelyn's shoulders slumped. “Where is Mother Giselle?”

Cassandra led her to a small collection of cots set up where injured soldiers and refugees, laid in neat rows, suffering and dying. Evelyn forced herself to look at each and every one of them. As they approached a dark skinned woman in Chantry robes, Evelyn heard her reassuring the soldier lying closest to her as he stared with frightened eyes at nearby mages healing other patients, “Turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.”

The words were so relevant to her current state that they soothed not only the soldier but Evelyn as well. “Mother Giselle?” she asked softly. She was on her own. The others had begun to help where they could, speaking with other Inquisition members.

“I am,” the woman said, standing to face Evelyn, her thick Orlesian accent not affecting the gentle tone of her voice. “And you must be the one they are calling the 'Herald of Andraste'.”

Evelyn shuffled her feet. “Not through any choice of mine.”

Mother Giselle smiled briefly. “We seldom have much say in our fate, I'm sad to say.”

“So you agree with them?” Evelyn asked in surprise, hoping she was reading the Mother incorrectly.

“I don't presume to know the Maker's intentions... for any of us. But I did not ask you to come, simply to debate with me.” Mother Giselle had piqued her interest.

“Then why am I here?” Evelyn asked in exasperation.

“I know of the Chantry's denouncement and I am familiar with those behind it,” she said leading Evelyn towards a small house nearby. “I won't lie to you. Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified.” She paused, stretching out a hand to stop Evelyn as well. She turned to face her. “So many good people... Senselessly taken from us.”

“What happened was horrible,” Evelyn agreed with a shudder, remembering the burned husks of people in the temple.

“Fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason,” Mother Giselle said with another warm smile. Evelyn turned her gaze on the village as people began cleaning up after the battle. “Go to them. Convince the remaining Clerics that you are no demon to be feared.” Evelyn lifted her hand and clenched her fist that had minutes ago been responsible for crushing a man to death with magic. How could she convince anyone she was not to be feared. Even she was a little scared of herself just then. “They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“That won't just make it worse?” Evelyn asked, giving voice to her fears.

“Because you are a mage?” Mother Giselle asked insightfully.

“That too,” Evelyn agreed, rubbing her palms together and dropping her hands to her sides again.

“Let me put it this way,” Mother Giselle began. “You needn't convince them all. You just need some of them to _doubt_. Their power is their unified voice. Take that from them and you receive the time you need.”

Evelyn wasn't convinced. “So I show up, say hello, show them the mark on my hand...?”

“I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us... or destroy us.” Mother Giselle paused to allow her words to sink in, her piercing eyes studying Evelyn. “I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.” With her piece spoken, Mother Giselle turned away and went down the stairs back toward the middle of the village where there were more injured and dead to attend to. Evelyn had a lot to think about, but there was also much to do. As the others slowly approached her, she sighed and hugged herself.

 

The Hinterlands was indeed a mess as Harding had said. Everywhere they turned there were small splinter groups of mages and templars. Sometimes they were alone, other times they came across groups already engaged with each other. Anyone who was not a templar or a mage risked being caught up in the chaos if they attempted to step foot on the King's Road. How many lives had she taken now? Was it ten? Thirteen? Maker, she had lost count.

She sat on the ground, staring into the fire of their latest encampment. Officers had arrived about an hour ago to set up all of their trappings and secure the area. She heard footsteps approaching her, accompanied by the sound of clanking. Before the other woman even stepped into view, she knew it was Cassandra. The woman had no sense of stealth. She joined her around the fire, sitting down on a stump and dropping her shield down between them. Evelyn didn't glance at her, instead busying herself with the small collection of twigs and rocks that she had built up into a fortress before her. She had to keep her hands busy, otherwise her thoughts wandered to the faces of the men and women who had fallen to her magic.

They were less than a day's travel from Redcliffe Farms where it was rumored that Master Dennet was indeed still alive. The sun had dipped below the mountains and the only source of light was the warm glow of their camp fire. Evelyn could feel Cassandra's eyes boring holes into her. “What is it, Cass?” she asked, finally turning her gaze on the hardened woman's face.

Cassandra regarded her for a few more moments, her brown eyes flicking curiously from Evelyn to the pile of sticks and back again. Finally, she cracked a small smile. “I was seventeen when I killed my first man. I remember thinking, ' _Maker, did he have a family?'_...”

Evelyn huffed and looked away. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

Cassandra chuckled softly. “Perhaps if you allow me to finish...”

“I appreciate the thought, Cass, but I've been in the Hinterlands one day and my body count has hit double digits. I'm just going to need some time...” Evelyn stood, abandoning her staff in the dirt by the fire and kicking her masterpiece into the blaze. The fire crackled, thankful for the extra life she had just breathed into it, as she walked off.

She heard Cassandra's deep sigh over the rush of the small waterfall by their camp that flowed out of Lake Luthias over head. She also heard the crunch of gravel and her footfalls as she followed Evelyn. “The problem is that we do not have the luxury of time,” Cassandra continued, taking light hold of Evelyn's bicep to turn her towards her. “The Breach must be sealed and we need help to do it. To get that help, we must do what needs to be done. If that means killing those who would stand in our way, then we must accept that it is the Maker's will for us to do so.”

Evelyn lifted her unmarked hand to study it, calling small arcs of lightning to her fingers and bouncing them from tip to tip. The magic crackled as Cassandra watched her intently. “All my life, I've seen my magic as a gift from the Maker. Today was the first time I've ever seen my spells as a thing of evil.” She staunched the bolts and closed her fist, pulling it to her chest as tears prickled her eyes.

“Your magic is not evil,” Cassandra said more gently than Evelyn knew her voice could get. The phrase surprised her coming from the Seeker and she lifted her gaze to listen. “I have witnessed you do a lot of good in the last few weeks. I misjudged you at the beginning and I believe that standing at your side is how I can make up for it. Simply because your weapon is magic instead of a sword or a bow does not make you evil. We are trapped in the middle of a war and all we can do is try to bring order to the chaos. If that means that fanatics must die, then so be it.”

Evelyn heard more footsteps approaching. She turned to see Varric on his way to lend his opinion. “The Seeker's right, you know,” he said, glancing at Cassandra. “Today, on the King's Road... Killing those guys also saved the lives of the Refugees huddled in that burning building. That family would have died if you hadn't gotten there to hold that roof up from collapsing on their heads. I'd say that's a pretty fair trade off.” He held up his left hand. “Killing bad people...” He held up his right hand beside it. “Saving innocent people... It looks pretty neutral to me.”

Evelyn stared at his hands as they hovered in the air in front of him. “Knowing you are wrong and striving to be better is what defines a 'good person'.” Solas' voice broke the silence as she contemplated. She turned to see him crouched by the water's edge calmly filling his waterskin. He stood and capped the skin, a slight tilt upwards forming at the corners of his mouth. “You do not seek out war, but protect those in it's wake and that, Da'len, is how you must categorize the situation.”

Evelyn blinked, and her eyes moved between her companions. They were all telling her that she was right, in spite of how wrong it felt. Their gentle words and encouraging smiles leant her warmth and she felt her resolve harden. “Thank you. All of you. I promise, by morning, I'll be right as rain.”

“That's the spirit, Aurora,” Varric smiled and patted her arm.

She managed to grin back at him as the others dispersed. “I _will_ do better,” she promised herself quietly as she headed back towards the fire to collect her staff.

 

The week they had spent in the Hinterlands had gotten them the little bit of influence they needed to make the journey to Val Royeaux and discuss things with the Clerics. Evelyn had been more than glad to focus her efforts every now and then on the demons and horrors that littered the Hinterlands due to the rifts that had opened up in random places. Closing the rifts and vanquishing evil had given her mind time to breathe. Now they needed to get back to Haven and decide exactly who should be going to the capitol. Mother Giselle had put forth Evelyn as the most worthy candidate. The mage in question stood in the War Room, her mouth agape as Josephine cocked her hip and said, “Having the Herald address the Clerics is _not_ a terrible idea.” Her face was beaming with a sparkling smile even as everyone's eyes fell on her in shock.

A snort rose from across the table. “You can't be serious!” Cullen objected. Evelyn wasn't certain if the man was objecting because he was concerned for her, or because he thought allowing her to speak for the Inquisition was a bad idea. She narrowed her eyes as she studied him, his usual stance with both hands resting on his sword hilt irritated her. How could he be so calm? Her time on the road had both frazzled her nerves and given her new perspective on who she was. She was ready to step up and do what needed to be done, but she wasn't certain if personally showing up in Val Royeaux was a good idea. The Commander was right.

“Mother Giselle isn't wrong,” Josie continued. “At the moment, the Chantry's only strength is that they are united in opinion.”

As she spoke, Cullen shifted his weight and his right hand found the back of his neck as he shook his head. There were his nerves. He wasn't as calm as he was letting on. “And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” Leliana asked, swaying her hips back and forth as she did, her hands behind her back. Evelyn marked the spymaster's nervous tick. Observing these people and their mannerisms was top on her list. She wanted to know the people she was working with. She'd gotten to know Cass, Varric and Solas on the road. The others were a different story. She'd received short and curt replies from Cullen to the reports she'd sent him at Cassandra's request. Leliana was a bit more personable, but she was beginning to see where Cullen was coming from when he'd said that Leliana scared him. The woman could smile in your face while stabbing you in the back, of that Evelyn had no doubt. She had not had much contact with Josie so far and she intended to amend that soon. Evelyn was no stranger to The Game, but she was uncertain how comfortable she was with playing it every day. Still, she played, memorizing Cullen's rigid spine as he paced a small circle in his place, Josie's calculating stare as she also analyzed those around her, Leliana's feigned aloofness. Everything was a clue.

“Let's ask her,” Josie suggested and all eyes fell on Evelyn. Even Cullen paused his pacing to stare.

“I'm more concerned this won't actually solve any problems,” Evelyn said gruffly.

“I agree,” Cullen said loudly. “It just lends credence to the idea that we should care what the Chantry says.” His voice was laced with spite.

“I will go with her,” Cassandra let her voice be heard. “Mother Giselle said she could provide us names. Use them.” The last was directed to Leliana. Cassandra knew as well as Evelyn that Leliana had squirreled that information away long before they'd returned.

“But why? This is nothing but a...” Leliana began.

Cassandra cut her off. “What choice do we have, Leliana?! Right now, we can't approach anyone for help with the Breach.” She redirected her attention to encompass the others as well. “Use what influence we have to call the Clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through.”

Everyone glanced nervously at each other, but it seemed they agreed with Cassandra. It was decided that after a few days rest, they would be setting out yet again, this time in the direction of Val Royeaux, where Evelyn would dazzle the Clerics. With what exactly she was not certain, but hopefully when they arrived and the mood of the Clerics was assessed, she would think of something. In the meantime, she followed Cassandra from the war room and made her way toward her cabin. Sleeping in a bed was going to be a welcome change to the bedrolls of the last three weeks.

 


	3. Val Royeaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn attempts to make connections in Val Royeaux that will help seal the Breach.

Evelyn awoke in the morning feeling refreshed. The soft mattress worked wonders in easing the aches and pains of the road. She had walked into her cabin the night before to find that a tub had been set up in her space with a warm bath drawn. Josie's doing, no doubt. She had soaked for what felt like hours until her fingertips had shriveled. Servants had provided her with bath salts infused with elfroot and a shampoo that smelled of Crystal Grace. She found out that it was that shampoo that had given her hair the shine she had noticed after waking from her three day coma.

She took up a brush and smoothed her bed hair, allowing her nearly white locks to fall down around her shoulders. It had recently gotten long enough to touch nearly to her collar bone. She surveyed her appearance in the looking glass beside her dresser and was none too shocked to see that her face looked weary in spite of how good she felt. Her grey eyes were ringed by a light dusting of dark circles that bemoaned her lack of restful sleep. She took up a pad and worked to cover up the disturbances in her complexion that also included a few more freckles that had popped up in her time on the road. She'd never had freckles before leaving the Circle. She took the time to swipe a line of kohl both above and below her lashes to draw attention to her eyes instead of what surrounded them. She needed to start sleeping better.

After dressing, she headed out into the brisk morning air to find some breakfast. The Tavern likely would not be open yet, so she decided to try the Chantry. Her legs carried her up the staircase to where Varric had taken up permanent residence by the same fire she had sat around with him on her first day in Haven. He wiggled his fingers in greeting as she passed and she returned the wave with a smile. Her stomach grumbled as her foot hit the bottom stair of the next incline. She'd been so wrapped up in her bath the previous night that she had forgotten to eat dinner. Careless. Raised voices caught her attention as she climbed the stairs. She glanced up toward the Chantry. There was a collection of people outside the entrance, a clear line in the sand between the two groups. “Your kind killed the Most Holy!” A man in templar plate shouted, his stance threatening as he leaned toward the man opposite him who was dressed in mage robes.

“Lies! Your kind let her die!” The mage retorted angrily.

The templar's hand went to his sword and Evelyn jerked toward the fray. “Shut your mouth, _mage!_ ” The man spat, his sword halfway from its scabbard.

Before she could reach them, Cullen appeared like smoke, stepping between the two men. She flinched and paused, a distinct jolt of fear wrenching her gut as Cullen set himself in harm's way. “Enough!” he shouted, his arms outstretched to keep the men apart.

“Knight Captain,” the templar gasped, backing up a few steps.

Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief as the man's hand left his sword. Cullen's head snapped to the Templar and his top lip curled back in disgust. “That is _not_ my title!” he growled. Another clue to the Commander nuzzled it's way into her mental file. Why was he so angry with the Order? “We are _not_ templars any longer. We are _all_ part of the Inquisition.” He emphasized _all_ , indicating the mages as well by turning to glance at them. As he lectured, his arms dropped slightly but he used each to point scoldingly at each of the aggressors in turn.

“And what does that mean, exactly?” Chancellor Roderick's voice rose among the cacophony as he approached Cullen. His hands were behind his back and he strutted much like a Peacock showing it's feathers. He believed he held all of the cards.

Cullen's sneer turned on him. “Back already, Chancellor? Haven't you done enough?”

Evelyn silently agreed. The Chancellor was trouble. “I'm curious, Commander,” the Chancellor lifted his arms to draw more attention to himself. “As to how your Inquisition and it's 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised.”

“Of course you are,” Cullen said with a sigh, his voice so low she barely caught his words at the distance she was standing. His back straightened slightly and his voice rang out loudly again. “Back to your duties! All of you!” The crowd began to disperse and Cullen took up a position in front of the Chantry's doors, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down the Chancellor who refused to leave. Evelyn steeled herself and decided to lend the Commander a hand. She strolled over towards the two men with purpose, her back straight and her gait stiff. Cullen took note of her approach, his Amber eyes momentarily flicking to her and a warm smile flashed over his features quickly before the Chancellor could see it. “Mages and Templars were already at war. Now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death.”

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order,” Roderick insisted.

“Who, you?” Cullen asked, a chuckle under his words. “Random Clerics who weren't important enough to be at the Conclave?”

“The rebel Inquisition and it's so-called 'Herald of Andraste'?” Roderick retorted. “I think not!”

“I don't know. The Inquisition seems about as functional as any young family,” Evelyn mocked, her voice laced with the same underlying chuckle as Cullen's had been.

“How many family's are on the verge of splitting into open warfare with themselves?” Roderick proclaimed, a hint of pleading in his voice.

Cullen openly snorted out a chuckle. “Yes. Because that would _never_ happen to the Chantry.”

“Centuries of tradition will guide us!” Roderick insisted. “We are not the upstart, eager to turn over every apple cart.”

“Remind me why you're allowing the Chancellor to stay?” Evelyn turned her eyes on Cullen and his gaze reluctantly turned sour. She knew then that it was not Cullen's choice.

“Clearly, your templar knows where to draw the line,” Roderick said in victory.

“He's toothless,” Cullen spat, turning the sour look on Roderick. “No point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth.” He looked back at her, his gaze softening. “The Chancellor's a good indicator of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.”

Evelyn was curious about what she had witnessed, so ignoring the Chancellor, she asked Cullen. “The mages and Templars are fighting even though we don't really know what happened at he Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“Exactly why all of this should be left to a new Divine.” Roderick interrupted as Cullen opened his mouth to speak. She watched the Commander's lips press together in a firm line as he closed his eyes, likely to pray for patience. “If you are innocent, the Chantry will establish it as so.”

“Or will be happy to use someone as a scapegoat,” Cullen growled.

“You think nobody cares about the truth?” Roderick asked defensively. “We _all_ grieve Justinia's loss.”

“But you won't grieve if the Herald of Andraste is conveniently swept under a carpet,” Cullen remarked making Evelyn flinch. Every time someone used the title, it made her stomach flip flop. She certainly didn't feel chosen by Andraste. Cullen knew better, but he had to keep up appearances for the Chancellor. His quick glance of apology told her so.

“Don't let anyone riot while we're gone,” she said, a slight bitterness to her voice that she immediately regretted as Cullen's features sank into sad, apologetic puppy eyes.

“The walls will be standing when you return,” he said. “I hope...”

She was displeased with herself for taking out her discomfort on Cullen. It wasn't his fault. As she turned and walked away, she made a mental note to apologize later when the Chancellor was not within ear shot. Finding a humble breakfast of tea and bread awaiting her in the Chantry, Evelyn stopped by Josephine's office where they chatted for a bit, Evelyn trying to get a hold on exactly who the Ambassador really was. Josephine used the time to try and elicit information from Evelyn about her relationship with her family. When she'd been marked at an early age as a Mage and sent to the Circle, her family had elected to do as best they could to pretend she didn't exist. Her older siblings were the only ones who she really had any functioning relationships with. Maxwell had been promised to the Chantry as the second son and Theodore was being groomed to take over the Trevelyan name. The only real thing she held in common with the rest of her blood was her family's belief in the Maker, though she was not as observant as some.

She left Josie with the promise of writing to her family for support and headed back out into the harsh cold. Cullen and the Chancellor had both disappeared. She huddled her neck down inside the warm scarf of her Avvar gear and hugged her own waist. Maker, Haven was cold. It was a shock after the warmth of the spring in the Hinterlands. She made her way down towards the stables to see if the mounts that Dennet had promised had arrived yet. Seeing only her own Forder, the other two brown mares and Varric's pony in the stables, she sighed and wandered off towards the makeshift barracks to the left of the village walls. The collection of tents was surrounded by recruits doing drills. Evelyn watched for a moment before a frustrated cry caught her ears. She glanced towards the practice dummies to see Cassandra hacking away violently at one in the middle. The dummy sagged pathetically in the wake of the onslaught, yet Cassandra did not let up. Evelyn smiled and clasped her hands behind her back before approaching the fiery Seeker. “I think you need practice dummies made of sturdier stuff.”

Cassandra grunted as she glanced at Evelyn, but she still swung her sword as she said, “That would be nice.”

The next swing she took pierced the fabric of the dummy's gut and straw poured from its innards. “Like maybe iron,” Evelyn quipped.

Cassandra paused and her arms fell to her sides, her right hand barely gripping her blade. “Did I do the right thing?” She shuffled to the next dummy. “What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I have revered my whole life.” She began hacking at the dummy, more slowly this time, pausing every few swings to adjust her stance and roll her shoulders. “One day, they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool... And they may be right.”

“What does your faith tell you?” Evelyn asked cautiously.

“I believe you are innocent. I believe more is going on here than we can see, _and_ I believe that no one else cares to do anything about it. They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot... But is this the Maker's will? I can only guess.”

“What's going to happen now?” Evelyn asked, hoping to help Cassandra work through her crisis as she had helped her in the Hinterlands.

“Now, we deal with the Chantry's panic over you before they do even more harm.” She huffed in frustration before continuing. “Then we close the Breach. We are the only ones who can. After that we find out who is responsible for this chaos and we end them... And if there are consequences to be paid for what I have done, I pay them. I only pray the price is not too high.”

It was a very full plate, but recently Evelyn had learned that no matter what was heaped on you, that you simply needed to break down the situation and tackle each problem one at a time. It was the only way to keep from going mad. “Isn't it a bit late to worry about it now?” Evelyn asked, trying to bring a little relief from the seriousness of their conversation.

“We have only just begun,” Cassandra sighed, refusing to let Evelyn's words humor her. She took a few more angry swings at the dummy before throwing the sword to the ground at her feet. “My trainers always told me 'Cassandra, you're too brash. You must think before you act'. I see what must be done and I do it. I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing it's tail, but I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was before me, clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again.”

Evelyn could see where Cassandra was coming from. If everything blew up, it was going to be directly in the Seeker's face. “It wasn't like you had no reason to suspect me,” Evelyn said with a shrug.

A small smile flashed over her features before it was snuffed. “I was determined to have someone answer for what happened... Anyone...” Cassandra began to walk off, but she paused and her body twisted so she was looking back at Evelyn. “You have said you _don't_ believe you are chosen. Does that mean you also don't believe in the Maker?” Her tone was almost pitying.

Evelyn balked. “I believe he exists,” she corrected, wondering why Cassandra had decided that the two beliefs were not mutually exclusive.

“That's... comforting,” Cassandra said, a more permanent smile gracing her lips as she lowered her eyes in what Evelyn realized was relief. “Surely the Maker put us both on this path for a reason. Now it simply remains to see where it leads us.” This time she actually did walk away, leaving Evelyn unsure if she had really helped. The smile was encouraging though.

 

Evelyn caught herself wandering the village more often than not in the next few days as Ravens flew back and forth from Val Royeaux, arranging their meeting. On one such particular wandering, she passed by Threnn to inquire how the supply chains were coming along and instead overheard a soft mumbled rendition of a portion of the chant. She paused outside the large tent where Leliana knelt on one knee, her hands clasped before her in prayer. It had been some time since Evelyn had done the same ritual herself and she closed her eyes, listening to allow Leliana's melodic voice bring her peace. The breeze tossed her hair as she breathed. “Blessed be the Peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written...” Her chanting paused and Evelyn opened her eyes to see that Leliana had raised her eyes to the sky. “Is that what You want from us? Blood? To die so that Your will is done?” she asked softly. “Is death Your only blessing?” Her eyes suddenly flicked to Evelyn who had not realized that Leliana was aware of her presence. “You speak for Andraste, no? What does the Maker's prophet have to say about all of this? What's his game?” She stood and approached Evelyn swiftly, stopping a short distance away so as not to crowd her. The space was deliberate.

“I speak for no one but myself, and I have no answers for you,” Evelyn said apologetically.

“Then we can only guess at what He wants,” Leliana sighed, crossing her arms before her. “The Chantry teaches us that the Maker abandoned us. He demands repentance for our sins. He demands it all! Our lives, our deaths.” Her lip curled upwards slightly. “Justinia gave him _everything_ she had. And He let her die!”

“Um, maybe you should be angry at the people who murdered her,” Evelyn suggested, uncomfortable with the tightrope over blasphemy that Leliana was walking on.

“If the Maker doesn't intervene to save the best of His servants, what good is He?” Evelyn cringed as Leliana dove off the tightrope with abandon. “I used to believe I was chosen, just as some say you are. I thought I was fulfilling his purpose for me. Working with the Divine, helping people... But now she's dead. It was all for nothing. Serving the Maker _meant_ nothing.”

“Maybe you have another purpose. I could help you find it.” It was difficult for Evelyn to watch as Leliana's faith was tested. She felt like she should do something, but she was no miracle worker. She was not a true Herald.

“No, this is my burden,” Leliana said, her face returning to her usual mask of smiles. It was simultaneously sweet and frightening. “I regret that I even let you see me like this. It was a moment of weakness. It won't happen again. Come, to work then. We will speak later.” Just then, a scout came in and handed Leliana a report which she glanced over. “So it's true. Butler has turned on us. I'd hoped my hunch was wrong.”

Evelyn decided to stick around and keep an eye on Leliana for a few more moments. She took a relaxed stance, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned on one of the tent's support beams. “You knew him well?” the scout asked conversationally.

“Not as well as I thought. Show me the reports.” Leliana took a few more papers from the scout and scanned them with her pale blue eyes. Evelyn noticed that a few red hairs had escaped her hood to fall over her eyes as she leaned over the table. “There were so many questions surrounding Farrier's death. Did he think we wouldn't notice?” She said with a sigh as she absorbed the information before her. “He's killed Farrier. One of my best agents and knows where the others are.” Evelyn saw her shoulders hunch and her head droop. “You know what must be done. Make it clean... Painless if you can. We were friends once.”

“Wait!” Evelyn pushed away from the tent pole. “What are you doing?”

“He betrayed us! He murdered my agent!” Leliana explained, turning to face Evelyn.

“And you'd kill him? Just like that?” Evelyn argued.

“You find fault with my decision?” Leliana barked, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“I'm sure most of your decisions are fine, but that one, a little extreme,” she pointed out, her voice rising slightly.

“Extreme?! Butler's betrayal put our agents in danger. I condemn one man to save dozens. I may not like what I do, but it must be done. I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this.” The blurted confession was exactly what Evelyn had been fishing for. Leliana had not struck her as a bad person. She was simply in a crisis, much like most of the members of the Inquisition.

Evelyn smiled tenderly. “If you don't like what you do, it's a pretty good sign you're doing something bad.” Her tone was teasing as she prayed her words got through.

She watched as Leliana balked. The spymaster turned back to the table and leaned heavily on the wooden surface. “That is certainly one way to put it.” After a moment, she sighed heavily then said, “Very well. I will think of another way to deal with this man.” Her attention fell back on the scout who was fidgeting nervously and awaiting orders. “Apprehend Butler, but see that he lives.” The scout bowed and nearly ran as he moved to escape the tension in the tent. Evelyn sighed as well, glad she had made Leliana see her error. “Now if you're happy, I have more work to do.”

It was a clear dismissal and Evelyn understood that the Nightingale needed time. She took her leave and went back to her wandering.

 

It took nearly a week on their horses, but they were finally riding up on Val Royeaux. Evelyn had never been to the capitol city and she was admittedly awed. Brightly colored spires lined the cobblestone path that entered the Market Square. Everywhere you looked, there were statues and art and ribbons of all colors. The city was vibrant and Evelyn dismounted her horse slowly as her eyes attempted to drink in all of the sights. Varric wandered up beside her as she made eye contact with a woman who was passing by. The woman took in her appearance and the Inquisition trappings on her mount then gasped and scurried quickly away. “Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they all know who we are.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric,” she said scornfully, his name coming from her mouth like she was spitting poison.

Evelyn glanced between the two of them. Since leaving Haven, their relationship had become even more strained than it had been before. Evelyn wondered what the story was between them. She had not asked Cassandra, but Varric had alluded that he had not come to Haven altogether willingly even if he _had_ decided to stay of his own free will. Cassandra was none too pleased that Varric had chosen to stay. Evelyn handed her horse's reins to the stable hand that approached with a small grin and followed after Cassandra. They walked a little more briskly than Evelyn would have liked. She wanted to take in some of the culture of the city. Almost as soon as they passed through the ornate iron gates of the city, one of Leliana's agents approached them at a jog. She dropped to one knee in a bow in front of Evelyn. “My Lady Herald.” Evelyn waved her hand at the bow as Cassandra questioned the scout on the state of things. “The Chantry Mothers await you,” the woman reported. “But, so do a great many Templars.”

Evelyn's heart sank. What were the Templars doing here? “There are Templars here?” Cassandra asked with almost as much shock as Evelyn felt.

“People seem to think the Templars will protect them from... from the Inquisition,” the scout fumbled as she lowered her eyes. “They're gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the Templars intend to meet you.”

“They wish to protect the people from _us_?” Cassandra mused as they headed further into the city.

“From the blasphemous 'Herald of Andraste', I'd say,” Evelyn mumbled.

“You think the Order's returned to the fold maybe? To deal with us upstarts?” Varric asked.

“I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defense. Not after all that's occurred,” Cassandra insisted. She turned to the scout who was obediently following them. “Return to Haven. Someone will need to inform them if we are... delayed.”

“As you say, My Lady.” The scout left them, melting into the city.

Evelyn immediately noticed the large collection of people on the opposite side of the market as the scout had reported. Cassandra hurried her forward, nearly grabbing her arm to tug her along like a disobedient child. Evelyn watched as Solas and Varric hung back, their eyes scanning the crowd. Varric's hand kept twitching toward his crossbow, but Solas was calm and calculating, reminding her of a sleeping Dragon.

There was a collection of Chantry folk and some Templars standing on a quickly erected stage that was blocking entry to a small dock. Evelyn paused as the middle aged woman at the head of the pack spoke, her voice commanding silence. “Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” Her accent was heavily Orlesian, revealing her as a local. It made more sense why many of the passers-by were stopping to listen to her words. “Together, we mourn our Divine! Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery! You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more... Behold! The so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell!” Evelyn felt the eyes that fell on her, each one boring holes into her flesh. “We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no _mage_ in our hour of need!” And there it was. The whole reason they were here. Evelyn scowled at the blatant prejudice coming from a servant of the Maker.

“You say I am the enemy!” Evelyn felt herself step forward, her fists clenched and a burning in her eyes. “The Breach in the sky is our _true_ enemy! We must unite to stop it!”

“It's true!” Cassandra said, stepping up by her side. “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

“It is already too late,” the Mother hissed, her left arm rising to point past the crowd. Evelyn followed the gesture and her eyes landed on a group of Templars marching toward them, two by two, led by a seasoned warrior with gray hair and a weathered face. His expression told of a great distaste at being where he was. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this 'Inquisition' and the people will be safe once more.” He completely ignored the sqwaking Mother as he mounted the dais and passed her by. One of the Templars following him lifted his hand draped in a gauntlet and struck the woman in the back of the head.

She cried out, falling to the ground and Evelyn felt herself take another step forward, this time in anger. “Still yourself.” the leader said, his voice sliding out with zero inflection. He patted the arm of one of the lower ranking Templars who looked as shocked as Evelyn was. “She is beneath us.”

“What's the meaning of this!” Evelyn growled, drawing more attention back to her. She was inches away from calling her magic and slamming the bastard with a fist of the Maker spell and watching him flatten under her power.

“Her claim to authority is an insult. Much like your own,” the man said, the full ire of his gaze falling on her. His eyes probed her momentarily with a great curiosity which she saw him physically quash so he could stroll off the dais.

Cassandra quickly moved to intercept him. “Lord Seeker Lucius. It is imperative that we speak with....”

“You will _not_ address me,” he barked, his voice still lacking anything but a great boredness with it all.

“Lord Seeker?” Cassandra gasped in shock as Evelyn took up a position behind her.

“Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet... You should be ashamed.” The monotone continued. “You should _all_ be ashamed. The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the Mages. You are the ones who have failed. You who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear. If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.”

Evelyn studied the man, searching for anything that might indicate he was not himself. Cassandra was certainly agitated. For some reason, Cullen came to mind. Evelyn stepped level with Cassandra and pitched her voice higher. “Templars! One of your own commands the Inquisition's forces! Join us, as he did!”

The Lord Seeker glared in her direction, that hungry look of regard passing over his eyes again. “You are a mage. Your ties are worthless. They're all made traitors just by being in your company.”

The man who had to be calmed after the Mother was assaulted stepped forward. “But Lord Seeker, what if she really was sent by the Maker? What if...”

The man who cut him off was none other than the one with the mother's streak of blood across his fist. “You are called to a higher purpose. Do not question.”

The Lord Seeker pulled his eyes from Evelyn and said, “ _I_ will make the Templar order a power that stands alone against the void. We deserve recognition. Independence. _You_ have shown me nothing. And the Inquisition... less than nothing. Templars. Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march!”

With the show over and the Templars leaving, the crowd began to disperse and Varric moved from his watchful post. “Charming fellow, isn't he?”

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?!” Cassandra gasped in shock.

“Do you know him very well?” Evelyn asked, touching Cassandra's shoulder.

The warrior shrugged her off, but not in anger. Evelyn dropped her arms back down to her sides as Solas padded up to join them. “He took over the Seekers of Truth two years ago, after Lord Seeker Lambert's death. He was always a decent man, never given to ambition and grandstanding. This is _very_ bizarre.”

“Doesn't look like we'll be getting the Templars to help us after all,” Evelyn said with a sigh that was both one of relief and frustration combined.

“I wouldn't write them off so quickly,” Cassandra chided. “There must be those in the Order who see what he's become. Either way, we should first return to Haven and inform the others.”

Evelyn moaned. They had literally just arrived and Cassandra was ready to leave already. “Can't we at least stop in at a cafe for some food?” she practically begged.

The Seeker turned to her with one brow raised. When Evelyn pouted her bottom lip forward, Cassandra rolled her eyes as Varric chuckled. “Fine.”

Evelyn did a victory dance that was extremely short lived as she remembered the Mother who had been woken and sat up by a few of the other Clerics. “One moment,” Evelyn said and brushed past Cassandra to see to the Mother. “Be still,” Evelyn soothed as she knelt beside the mother and laid her palms on the woman's shoulders. She closed her eyes and reached for the core in her chest where her magic rested. The healing spell coiled outwards to slip down her arms and help to knit the woman's wound together. Without another word, Evelyn stood and left the Mother who she swore actually smiled at her. _One small problem at a time_ , Evelyn reminded herself.

“That was a kind thing you did,” Solas said softly to her. “Let us hope that she remembers who helped her.”

“That's not why I did it.” Evelyn glanced at the elf as he smiled knowingly at her.

Before he cold respond, Varric collided with Evelyn and called, “Watch out!”

An arrow struck the ground at the precise spot she had just been standing in. “Andraste's ass!” she cursed, scrambling backwards and scanning the upper levels of the square to see if she could spot the shooter.

“There is a message attached to it,” Cassandra said, moving to kneel by the arrow that was stuck between two cobblestones. She yanked it from it's spot as Evelyn regained her feet and brushed herself off.

“What does it say?” Evelyn asked, rubbing her palm where her fall had given her road rash.

Cassandra chuckled. “I don't know. It is addressed to 'Herald Thingy'.”

Evelyn snatched the note from Cassandra who pushed back to her feet to stand beside her and read over her shoulder. The note was folded into a maddeningly intricate origami and Evelyn found herself biting her lip as she struggled to unfold it. When she was finally able to see the scrawling handwriting, she smoothed the paper and mumbled out loud as she read, ignoring the doodles in the margins.

_People say you're special. I want to help and I can bring everyone!_

_There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. Bring swords._

_Friends of Red Jenny_

Evelyn sighed and dropped her arms. “It's a bloody scavenger hunt.”

“At least one of the clues is in the cafe, Aurora,” Varric said with a grin.

She folded the paper neatly and turned back toward the docks. She stepped over the dais that was now abandoned and followed the small alley to the dock. “Okay, look for 'red things',” she said distractedly as her eyes were already scanning the area.

“Are you certain we should be wasting our time on this?” Cassandra asked grudgingly.

Evelyn shrugged and then jogged off toward a mess of nets that was lying on the ground by some barrels. “The note says there's danger. We might as well check it out.” She knelt by the nets and began to work through the knots to reach a small package wrapped in red cloth that was partially hidden by the smelly contents. When she finally found her prize, she shook it carefully hoping it wasn't chock full of grenades or phials full of poison. She opened it and inside the box was a key wrapped in another note. It was in a different hand than the one before.

_Key lifted from drunk swearing about Herald. Don't know what door. I'm out, my debt is paid._

Evelyn pocketed the key and sighed. “Let's hope the other clues are more informative.”

“We'll go to the cafe last. Let's see what we find in the upper market,” Varric suggested.

With a curt nod, Cassandra agreed. They found their way up and Evelyn thought they were looking for a needle in a hay stack. As they exited the spiral staircase, she happened to glance at some of the stained glass windows ahead and out of the corner of her eye, she saw another small red package tucked behind a potted plant just visible enough to be seen if you knew what you were looking for. “Well, that was easier than I thought it would be,” she said, starting to enjoy the little game. At least she was getting to see more of Val Royeaux.

This clue was stuffed in a red sock. Evelyn pulled a ripped page from the sock and with two fingers placed it back into the pot. This one was scrawled in another new script and beneath that, a different hand. The first was easy and the other she struggled to read.

… _and we are to obey well. We meet at three bells to discuss how best to serve the new way._

_Herald go at time. Praise Adrast._

“Well, we have a key and a time. I suppose that the clue in the cafe will reveal the place,” Solas suggested, glancing over the note and cringing at the misspellings before handing it back to Evelyn.

“Suddenly, I could use a drink,” Varric mumbled as they made their way back downstairs to the cafe.

Evelyn scanned the ground as they waited for the maitre d to find them a place to sit. Cassandra had her arms crossed in front of her and Evelyn could practically hear the disgusted noise before it even manifested. She smiled politely and nudged Varric when she spotted her prize. He slunk off, smoothly moving between the tables and knocked a patron's fork to the floor then apologized, bending to pick up the fork and retrieving the paper that was splashed with red paint at the same time. He returned to Evelyn's side, slipping her the paper and she held it in her fist as the maitre d returned with a table for them.

They arranged themselves strategically around the table and Evelyn ordered a glass of wine before smoothing the paper out to read it.

_Thank you, friends, for helping good Lady Keris. Saw those who asked about Herald enter third passage. Could not stay to see them exit._

Evelyn lifted the paper and slouched back in her seat, squinting as she read it again trying to work the clue. “That is a Stable Report,” Cassandra said, taking the paper from Evelyn and turning it around.

Evelyn smiled. “Well, now we have our location. With plenty of time to spare before three bells. I say we eat and then pay our 'baddie' a visit.”

“Oh, Aurora, don't you know it's not a good idea to meet your enemies on a full stomach?” Varric teased.

“I _don't_ know that, Varric, and I am going to continue to pretend I didn't hear you say that as I stuff my face with an Orlesian dish,” Evelyn said with a smirk.

“I wonder if they have frilly cakes,” Solas mused quietly as he perused the menu in front of him.

“Just stay away from the escargot,” Varric warned. “There was this one time Hawke...”

He stopped talking as Cassandra actually snarled at him. Evelyn picked up her menu and hid her snicker. “No escargot for me then,” she said.

 

When their appetites had been sated, Varric had the bill charged to the Dwarven Merchant's Guild with a shrug. “They owe me,” he said.

On their way out of the city, they were stopped twice. The first time was by a messenger with an invitation to a soiree at the residence of one Madame Vivienne de Fer. Evelyn pocketed the invitation as an excuse to spend even more time in Val Royeaux before Cassandra dragged her by her ear back to Haven. She'd never been to an Orlesian party before.

The second time was a surprise, even to Evelyn. “Grand Enchanter Fiona?!” Cassandra asked in surprise after the small elven woman dressed in fur lined Enchanter's robes approached them.

“Leader of the mage rebellion?” Solas asked with curiosity stepping forward. “Is it not dangerous for you to be here?”

“I heard of this gathering and I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes,” the Enchanter answered with a short bow of her head. She turned her large green eyes on Evelyn. “If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look among your fellow mages.”

Evelyn jumped at the offer. “That would have been my first choice if you had been willing to speak with us.” She ignored Cassandra's grunt of disapproval as she watched Fiona closely.

“We're willing now. That's the important thing.” Fiona said inclining her head so the sun reflected off her short, silky, black hair. “Consider this an invitation to Redcliffe. Come... Meet with the mages. An alliance could help us both, after all. I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my Lady Herald.” With that, Fiona disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

Cassandra stared at Evelyn until Evelyn averted her gaze. Maker, Cassandra was scary. “Come on, it's almost three bells,” Evelyn said, skirting Cassandra's reach as she turned and walked away.

 

The Red clues led them to a darkened back alley where they were almost immediately set upon by a company of mercenaries. As their assailants shouted obscenities about the Inquisition, Evelyn chuckled. “They know who I work for, at least.”

“Yeah, the question is, who do they work for?” Varric shouted from a little ways behind her.

After her first week in the Hinterlands, Evelyn still did not enjoy taking human lives, but she had learned to accept that it was part of her life now. She whirled her staff with as much vigor as she would have if they had been fighting off demons. When her blade had come out with the pull of a trigger, piercing the final fighter's chest as he had tried to charge her outstretched arm, she instantly pulled it back and spun the staff, flicking a spray of blood off the blade before retracting it. “Was that all of them?”

“Doubtful,” Cassandra growled stepping over one of the dead men.

Evelyn headed up the short stairway in front of her and towards a door. She gave the door a gentle push and it swung open easily. Someone was waiting on the other side and she quickly sidestepped the fireball that whizzed by her face. She could still feel the heat from it when the second one came at her. She ducked below that one then raised up with a scowl on her face. Two back to back fireballs seemed to be enough to make whatever point he had been trying to make as he stopped his onslaught and posed. She glared at the mage before her. He was dressed lavishly from head to foot, an ornate mask draped over his features as was the norm in Orlais. He stood with his chest puffed out and one foot strategically crossed in front of the other, his toe pointed. Evelyn fought the urge to laugh as he crowed her name in a thick Orlesian accent. “Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have cost the Inquisition immeasurably.” His chest puffed out even further and Evelyn crossed her arms.

“I don't know who you are,” she said, the simple phrase insulting the man who clearly thought he was important.

Her assessment was confirmed with his next words. “You don't fool me. I'm too important for this to be an accident! My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere.”

Their attention was all drawn to another man as he cried out in pain before crumpling to the ground. Behind him stood a young female elf. She wore yellow plaid leggings that reached to the middle of her calves and flat shoes that looked like they would help her move silently. Her shirt was a bright red and form fitting, but it looked as if a child had sewn it. She carried rows of small glass vials on her belt and a quiver full of arrows on her back. A longbow stood drawn in her hands. Her face held a playful expression underneath the scowl she was aiming at the pompous ass. Her hair was dirty blond and Evelyn definitely knew that a child had cut and styled it. None of the ends were the same length and it angled up and down in no discernible pattern except 'short'. “Just say 'what',” the girl said very clearly.

“What is the meaning of...” The man's words were cut short by a liquidy gurgle as her arrow found it's way into his skull.

“Ugh,” she complained as she approached, her lip curled. “Squishy one... but you heard me, right? Just say 'what'.” She knelt to grip the shaft of the arrow. “Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. Blah, blah, BLAH!” with a grunt she pulled it from his brain then studied it for imperfections before slipping it back in her quiver. “Obey me, arrow in my face.” She moved to stand in front of Evelyn who was watching her with mild amusement. “So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you're...” she squinted at Evelyn and disappointment flashed across her face. “You're kind of plain really. All that talk and then you're just a person.” At Evelyn's insulted crossing of her arms, the elf held up her hands and said. “I mean, it's all good innit? The important thing is you glow. You're the Herald Thingy.”

“Sure, why not? I glow. What's going on?” Evelyn asked in the space between the elf's rapid fire talk.

“No idea. I don't know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him,” the elf said with a shrug.

“Your people? Elves?” Evelyn asked, dropping her arms to her sides and glancing to Solas who shrugged.

“Pfft. No. People people.” She paused a split second and gestured to a pile of crates nearby. “Name's Sera. This is cover. Get 'round it. For the reinforcements. Don't worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They've got no breeches!” She squealed in excitement as a group of the mentioned reinforcements burst through the doors above.

Evelyn drew her staff and called her magic, throwing up a barrier to stop the charging aggressors. She couldn't help laughing as the men poured into the area in nothing but their small clothes. “Why didn't you take their weapons?” she called out to Sera as the elf scurried playfully around the field shooting arrow after arrow.

“'Cuz, no Breeches!” she answered cackling wildly. Evelyn flicked her wrist and the barrier fell so she could whip her staff in an arc and slam it into the shield of one of the men. While he was dazed, she folded her fingers and bent her palm back to blast him with an arcane bolt. He dropped like a brick. “Bunch of nutters!” Sera shouted, taunting the two remaining thugs, leaving them open for Evelyn to lay a carefully traced glyph at their feet. As soon as they walked over the mark on the ground, Evelyn stabbed the bottom of her staff to the ground and transferred the power to the glyph, igniting a ring of fire around the men, cooking them in their armor. When they fell with the choking scent of charred flesh in the enclosed area, Evelyn nearly gagged while Sera scuttled down from the ledge she'd climbed onto. “Friends really came through with that tip.” She snorted. “No breeches.” Her laugh was gleeful and Evelyn found it mildly infectious. “So, Herald of Andraste. You're a strange one. I'd like to join.”

Evelyn held up her hands. “Could we take a few moments for sense to reassert itself? Who are you people?”

“I'm not _people_ ,” Sera said with a short chuckle. “But I get what you want. It's like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The Friends of Red Jenny. That's me...” she started picking her fingernails which Evelyn noticed were rather filthy. “Well I'm one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven! Brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It lets little people, 'friends', be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I'm Sera. 'The Friends of Red Jenny' are sort of out there.” She waved her hands wildly. “I used them to help you. Plus arrows.”

Evelyn's eyes flicked up and down over the eccentric elf and she couldn't help smiling. If she was understanding the word soup that she was being fed, the girl was part of an unofficial spy network. “The Inquisition has spies already. Can you add to these professionals?”

Sera frowned slightly before using her hands to wildy gesture as she spoke. “Here's how it is. You 'important' people are up here, shoving your cods around.” Her voice raised to a mocking tone and she punctuated some of her next phrases with exaggerated kissing sounds. “Blah, blah, I'll crush you. I'll crush you... ooh crush you!” she cleared her throat before continuing. “Then you've got cloaks and spy kings. Like this tit,” she gestured at the dead leader. “Or was he one of the little knives? All serious with his... little knife. All those secrets and what gave him up? Some house boy who don't know shite, but knows a bad person when he sees one. So no, I'm not Knifey ShivDark, all hidden. But if you don't listen down here, too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards... I stole their...” she choked back another laugh. “Look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you.” Evelyn was not certain she fully understood still, but Sera had helped. She was worth taking along in Evelyn's opinion.

“Alright, Sera,” Evelyn said, glancing back at Cassandra who was staring at the elf, slack-jawed and looking like she was about three explanations behind. “I could use you and your 'friends'.”

“Yes! Get in good before you're too big to like! That'll keep your breeches where they should be... Plus extra breeches, because I have all these... You have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway. Haven. See you there, Herald. This will be grand!” Before Evelyn could say another word, Sera had trotted off, grabbing up a potato sack that was likely full of breeches and skipped out the back door.

“I will be surprised if she doesn't get sidetracked along the way and forget all about Haven,” Varric grumbled.

“I guess we'll see when we get back,” Evelyn sighed, watching as Cassandra finally caught up and scowled at the prospect of the elf running around Haven unchecked.

 

The soiree where she met Madame de Fer could not have been any less like her meeting with Sera even if there had been breeches. She was announced at the door as she entered and she glanced around at the elegant tapestries and dimly lit ballroom. She felt mildly naked as she took note of every other guest and the elaborate masks they wore. Her dusty travel worn clothes stuck out like a sore thumb. The weight of her staff leant her a modicum of comfort as she bit her lip, wondering why she was here.

Less than ten steps into the room, she was stopped by a pair of Orlesian nobles. “What a pleasure to meet you, My Lady,” the man said, his voice light and quick. “Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome.” Evelyn felt her brow knit lightly together as she wondered how they could even tell each other apart with the ridiculous masks. His was a simple golden metal color that hid from the bottom of his nose all of the way to his hairline, the bottom edge giving him the appearance that he had jowels like a bulldog. On top of his head sat an odd hat that she had noticed all around Orlais so far. It must have been in style and she cocked her head, hoping she wasn't being insulting by gawping. “You must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?” The man asked curiously.

The woman drew her attention next. The only bit of her skin that was visible was a thin swath from the tip of her nose to the top of her lip that was drowned out by the silver mask and the absurd neck frill that she wore as if she were completely comfortable. Her large white hat had a wide brim surrounding it that laid flat on one side and swooped upwards toward the ceiling on the other. In the middle, a single large red feather was placed, artfully following the swoop even as it struggled to remain aloft under its own weight. “Are you here on business?” Her voice was sing-songy and light, surprisingly not muffled behind her frill. “I have heard the most curious tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true.”

Evelyn opened her mouth and chose her words carefully. This was Orlais. _Best foot forward_ , she reminded herself, _but don't reveal all of your cards_. “Everything you've heard? Completely true,” she said with a smirk.

The woman tittered, her voice high and breathy. “Better and better. The Inquisition should attend more of these parties.”

A strangled choke of short laughter called Evelyn's gaze to her right where a man was walking boldly down the staircase. “The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit.” Evelyn frowned. “Washed up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously.” The man reached the bottom of the stairs and began to circle Evelyn like a predator. She took note of the dagger he kept at his back and her own hand was not far from her staff. “Everyone knows it's just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

“The Inquisition is working to restore peace and order to Thedas,” Evelyn said conversationally, pitching her voice to match his.

The man chuckled wryly. “Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army!” He stepped up closer, invading her space and she could smell alcohol on his breath. “We all know what your 'Inquisition' truly is. _If_ you were a woman of honor, you would step outside and answer these charges.”

Evelyn felt her stomach flip. Had he just challenged her? She suddenly wished she had brought Cassandra along in spite of the warrior's complete lack of couth. Evelyn backed up three steps from him as he reached up, his hand landing on the hilt of his dagger. Before he could draw it, the man froze in place, surrounded by a cool fog that rolled off the winter's grasp spell he was caught in. Evelyn looked down at her palms in shock. That had not been her magic. Her eyes flicked up and scanned the room. It did not take long for them to land on the regal figure as she walked gracefully down the stairs behind Evelyn's challenger. She was dressed in a skintight white silken leotard inlaid with gold threading and a intricate blue paisley embroidery that snaked down her middle from to neck to foot. Her heels clicked pleasantly, as Evelyn noticed that they were attached to a tall pair of boots that matched her outfit and reached all of the way to her thighs. There was a half skirt resting at her hips and a wide blue and gold fan that spread to frame her head which was topped with a typical Orlesian Hennin that gave her horns like a Qunari. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate, much darker than Mother Giselle's and her lips were thick and unamused as she scolded the man. “My dear Marquis. How unkind of you to use such language in _my_ house... to _my_ guests.” This must be the famous Madame de Fer. She strutted her way from the bottom of the staircase, the sway of her hips in the heels making Evelyn think of a lioness stalking it's prey. “You know such rudeness is... intolerable.” She chided.

The man struggled to speak around the spell, his teeth chattering. “Madame Vivienne. I humbly beg your pardon.”

“You should,” she said coldly as she finally stopped before him. She invaded his space as thoroughly as he had Evelyn's just moments ago. “Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?” she said with a sigh. She spun to regard Evelyn, her pointed shoulder pads catching the light. “My Lady, you're the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Evelyn was curious to see who Madame de Fer really was and she prayed she was not condemning the idiot to death with her next words. “The Marquis doesn't interest me. Do whatever you like with him.”

Vivienne regarded her with narrowed eyes and a cocked hip. Then with a curt smile, she turned back to the Marquis. And took his chin in her fingers. “Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord,” she sighed with a pitying pout in her voice. She backed up, the same hand coming off his chin and with a flourish, she snapped her fingers and the spell dissipated, leaving the man hacking and coughing as he thawed.”And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange's doublet. Didn't she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave Chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning... and you're still here.” The insult radiated through the room, perfectly delivered for maximum carnage. Whispers stirred between the other guests as Vivienne stood, studying the perfectly manicured nails on her fingers. “Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think her blade would put an end to the misery of your failure?” The man hung his head and Vivienne perked up. “Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your Aunt.” When she spun again to face Evelyn, there was a pleasant grin pulling her thick lips apart to reveal two rows of perfectly white, dazzling teeth. “I'm so glad you could attend this little gathering. I've _so_ wanted to meet you.” Evelyn inclined her head politely as Vivienne gestured for her to follow. She led her back up the stairs that she had appeared from and stopped her before a row of floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the rising moon. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”

So this Ice Queen was the First Enchanter in Orlais? That made her an extremely powerful woman. She could have felled the Marquis with barely a thought, but she let him go. The only thing destroyed was his reputation, which in Orlais, she might as well have killed him. “Your Salon has certainly exceeded my expectations so far,” Evelyn quipped, taking in the studious look that was being raked over her.

A warm chuckle entered her voice. “I'm glad to keep you entertained, my dear. I wanted to meet face to face. It is important to consider one's connections carefully. With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles, but the faithful flock to your banner, pinning their hopes on you to deliver them from chaos. As the leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

Evelyn frowned. “You say you led the last of the 'loyal' mages. Loyal to whom?”

“To the people of Thedas, of course,” Vivienne said, her eyes widening briefly. “We have not forgotten the Commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man.” Evelyn flinched as she realized that Vivienne had been one of the mages that voted against independence. They had been on opposite sides of the fence. “I support any effort to restore such order.” Vivienne was apparently not aware of this small tidbit of information, so Evelyn pressed her lips together and nodded thoughtfully.

“So, you're in favor of returning the mages to the Circle, then?”

Vivienne flicked her eyes to Evelyn's staff and shifted her hips before answering. “Where else can mages safely learn to master their talents? We need an institution to protect and nurture magic. Maker knows, magic will find neither on it's own.” The last was bitter as she crossed her arms beneath her chest.

In spite of her beliefs clashing so thoroughly with hers, Evelyn knew an advantage when she saw one. Without revealing her own opinion on the matter, she smiled warmly. “The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne.”

Her smile was returned. “Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that.”

 


	4. Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending time with the Commander leads Evelyn to embarrassing thoughts and feelings.

In spite of her outward appearances, Vivienne was surprisingly willing to get herself dirty. She had elected to travel with Evelyn and the others as they rode back to Haven. They'd met with a few bandits along the road on their third day and the Enchantress had shown her true power, manifesting a long spirit blade that aided her in hacking down their enemies. Evelyn had watched in awe. Knight Enchanters were a rare breed among mages, but they were generally very powerful and respected.

When they rode back into Haven, handing their horses off to Dennet, Evelyn sighed, glad to be free of the saddle. “How about a drink, Aurora?” Varric asked with a friendly grin.

She glanced at Vivienne who inclined her head. “Run along, my dear. I am sure I can find my way to the Chantry. I very much wish to introduce myself to your Mother Giselle.”

“Please, let me know if there is anything you need. Josephine has probably already had accommodations made up for you,” Evelyn called over her shoulder as Varric dragged her along by her wrist.

“You need to take a break,” he said with a chuckle. “I can't be the only one that has noticed Cassandra handing over more and more authoritative duties into your marked hands. Since when did you don the cap of recruitment?”

Evelyn sighed as she fell into step beside the dwarf. She was admittedly a bit tired and people seemed to keep coming to her to make decisions. “Probably somewhere between now and the moment I allowed them to start calling me 'Herald'.”

“You know, Hawke never asked to be the Champion either, but circumstance kind of dropped it in her lap. You two are a lot alike,” he told her.

Evelyn was honored. From what she understood, Varric respected no one in Thedas as much as he respected the Champion of Kirkwall. For him to compare them left her speechless. Instead of thanking him, she nudged him. “Why is Hawke such a sore topic between you and Cass?”

Varric sighed deeply. “The Seeker came to me after the Chantry blew up, quite literally, in Kirkwall. Hawke was long gone, but Cassandra seemed to think I should know where she was. I didn't, but you know the Seeker. She wasn't willing to take no for an answer. She... interrogated me, extensively before forcing me to follow her to Haven so I could repeat my story to the Divine. Then the sky opened up and here we are.”

Evelyn frowned. “Why was Cassandra looking for Hawke?”

He chuckled. “As you know from the book, the mage who destroyed the Chantry was a close _personal_ friend of the Champion. The Seeker thought since Hawke was an advocate for mage rights, her voice might hold sway at the Conclave.”

Evelyn nodded thoughtfully as they entered the tavern. Flissa waved at them before Varric held up two fingers and dropped himself in a chair near the bar. Evelyn moved to join him, but her attention was drawn elsewhere as she heard a familiar cackling laugh. She smiled as her eyes fell on the wild elf that she had recruited in Val Royeaux. “I guess she didn't forget about us,” she remarked, tossing her head in the direction of the elf as she sat across from Varric.

“I believe I owe you a sovereign,” he smirked as Flissa set their drinks on the table. Evelyn nodded her thanks to the woman and wrapped her fingers around the cool mug. One advantage to living in Haven, the ale was always cold. She sipped the frothy liquid as she watched Sera dancing around a table and taunting a soldier that she had just beaten at a hand of Wicked Grace.

She sat with Varric, enjoying a quiet drink with him, until Sera spotted her. “Herald!” the girl shouted bouncing on the balls of her feet and waving. Evelyn stood with a smile at Varric. He tipped his mug to her and she made her way over to Sera, her cheeks slightly flushed at the attention she was garnering, as the girl giggled. When Evelyn sat down at a free table and flapped her hand for Sera to join her, the first words out of her mouth were. “So, this is it, huh?” When Evelyn cocked her head and a slight frown wrinkled her forehead, Sera threw up her arms. “Oh no, it's fine, yeah? It's just, I thought it'd be bigger.” Before Evelyn could respond, Sera's mouth began running again. She was a bundle of energy. She giggled. “That would have been hilarious if you were a man, right? Wasted... Anyway, stopping wars should earn more sovereigns than this. Need things back to normal for coins to be flowing again. Another reason the templars and mages need to be sat down.”

Evelyn smirked around her mug before taking a sip and then setting it down on the table. The condensation dripped from beneath her fingers where the moisture had been disturbed by her touch. She slowly turned the mug, making a ring on the table. “I'm pretty sure the Conclave proved it's not that easy.”

“Yes it is,” Sera said matter-of-factly.

Evelyn cocked her head again. “No, it isn't?”

“Why?” Sera asked a frown making her nose wrinkle. “Because someone yelled it real loud? Make them prove it!” Her expression softened again. “They're too busy to look up where the real questions are.”

“Right!” Evelyn said her voice rising in amusement. “They should know it's a simple job. End all war, stitch the sky...” she paused and her eyes flicked up to Sera as she grinned. “The easy one first, of course.”

Sera laughed nervously as she figured out that Evelyn was not making fun of her, but joking with her. “You're daft, yeah? Most people get special, they lose their snerk. Can't see how stupid it all is. I think I like you Lady Herald. Maybe you are a little touched, yeah?”

Evelyn took another sip of her drink and nodded holding the liquid in her mouth, savoring the taste before swallowing and setting the mug back in the center of the circle she'd created. “I'm willing to give it a shot. That's all I can ask from anyone else.”

“I'm in. Its an investment, yeah?” The wide smile she sported was replaced with the lifting of her upper lip and the wrinkling of her nose. “Better pay off, too. Stupid war and... everything. I had things to do!”

With a chuckle, Evelyn got up from her seat, and downed the remainder of her drink. “This one's on you, Varric!” she called and he waved her off. “Excuse me Sera, but I have two weeks of travel to scrub out of my hair.”

She walked out, followed by excited giggling and the words, “Ooh, naked Herald.”

She stepped out into the brisk air as the sun was beginning to dip below the mountains for the day. The Breach cast an eerie green glow on the entire area as the sun spread it's light across the horizon. Evelyn momentarily drank in the dark beauty before heading toward her cabin. She hoped that the bath Josephine had requisitioned for her the last time they arrived back from a trip was not a one time ordeal. Unfortunately upon entering her cabin, all that waited for her was a porcelain bowl filled with steaming water and a jug beside it, a folded washrag draped over the top to keep the warmth in. Evelyn sighed and stripped, discarding her muddy clothes and leaning her staff gently against the wall by her bed. With a flick of her fingers, she lit the fireplace and the room was bathed in a soft orange glow. She took up the rag and dipped it in the quickly cooling water and cleaned her body. Her hair was much harder to do with just the bowl and jug, but she persevered, pouring one to the other, back and forth until she was convinced she had rinsed the worst of the grit and grime out and her hair would be white once more. Shivering a little, she rubbed the moisture from her hair with a spare shirt and flung it back behind her with a flip of her head. Then she quickly pulled on her nightclothes and huddled beneath the blankets of her bed. Sleep came soon after.

 

She was awakened early in the morning by a sharp rap on her door. “Evelyn, we must report to the leadership of the situation in Val Royeaux.”

Evelyn groaned and rubbed her eyes. It was barely dawn and Cassandra's voice pouring through the door sounded irritated already. “I'm coming,” she grumbled as the knocking began again.

She sat up and stretched her limbs, her back audibly popping as it realigned itself. All this time on the road was going to make her old before her time. She fished for some warm clothes and came across the freshly washed Avvar garments that she had taken to wearing around Haven. She slipped them on and went to the door to open it for Cassandra. “We're late,” the Seeker snapped as Evelyn stepped onto the stoop.

“Good morning to you, too, Cass,” she said with a smirk.

The warrior rolled her eyes and hurried her along toward the Chantry. Nearly as soon as they pushed open the heavy oak doors, Josephine appeared from the shadows to their right. She was uncharacteristically without her clipboard and Evelyn snickered as she realized that Josie was not quite awake either. “It's good you have returned. We heard of your encounter.”

“You heard?” Cassandra asked in shock as Leliana and Cullen both sauntered up from different directions.

“My agents in the city sent word ahead, or course,” Leliana said, stirring a small cup of tea in her hands with a tiny spoon. She smiled around the brim as she lifted the cup to her lips and sipped.

Cullen crossed his arms and Evelyn noticed as he talked that the rings under his eyes were getting darker. The man was overworking himself. “It's a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capitol.”

“At least we know how to approach the mages and templars now,” Evelyn found herself trying to bring light to the dismal situation so maybe Cullen would take a break. He looked awful.

“Do we?” Cassandra asked as they all turned to head further into the Chantry together. “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.”

“True. He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what? My reports have been... very odd,” Leliana said frowning into her tea cup as she strolled to a stop once more.

“We must look into it,” Cullen insisted. “I'm certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.” Evelyn thought about the young man who had openly questioned the Lord Seeker and had been silenced.

“Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead,” Josephine suggested.

Cullen stopped short and spun around. “You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse.”

Evelyn bit her lip and took half a step forward. “I could at least find out what the mages want.”

Cassandra was quick to retort as Cullen's gaze fell on her with a mixture of several emotions that she could not sort out, warring for a place at the forefront. She shuffled her feet nervously. “No doubt what they've always wanted. Support for their cause.”

“We shouldn't discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk.” Evelyn was at least glad to have Josie on her side of the debate.

“They _are_ powerful, Ambassador,” Cassandra chided. “But more desperate than you realize.”

“So it'll be dangerous...” Evelyn shrugged. “I've been in danger since I walked out of the Fade.”

“If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave...” Cassandra began.

Josie cut her off. “The same could be said about the Templars.”

Cullen snorted in frustration. “True enough. Right now, I'm not certain we have enough influence to approach the Order safely.” At least he was backing off of his opinion and thinking more about the safety of either meeting as a higher priority.

“Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places,” Cassandra said with a sigh. “That's something _you_ can help with.” Her gaze fell on Evelyn _. Yay, more traveling,_ Evelyn thought, crossing her arms.

“In the meantime, we should consider other options,” Josie said softly and then turned away to head for her office.

Cullen and Cassandra exchanged looks before also taking their leave. Evelyn was ready to excuse herself when Leliana approached her. “There is one other matter.” Afraid she'd done something wrong, Evelyn smiled and cocked her head to listen. “Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn't even consider the idea they are involved in all of this, but the timing is curious.” She was swaying her hips as she stood in place, indicating how nervous the topic was making her.

“That does sound odd, I agree,” Evelyn said leaving one arm wrapped at her waist while she lifted her marked hand, elbow rested on the other forearm, to rub her fingers together thoughtfully.

“The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I cannot ignore it,” Leliana confessed, the tea cup in her hand clinking merrily as she shifted and the spoon slid around the lip. “Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity, please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

“And if he can't?” Evelyn asked.

“Then there may be more going on than we thought,” she said simply before turning and walking away toward the war room, leaving Evelyn standing alone in the Chantry.

Evelyn sighed, thinking about everything that she had ahead of her. As she shuffled out into the morning air, her thoughts were interrupted by someone hailing her. “Excuse me.” When she turned to meet the gaze of the person speaking to her, he quickly hurried ahead. “I've got a message for the Inquisition, but I'm having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.” His voice was oddly effeminate and the cut of his jaw gave Evelyn pause.

“What's the message?” she asked, wondering if this soldier actually was a man or not.

“We got word of some Tevinter Mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you'd like to see what the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.” He passed her a small map with a location marked on it.

Evelyn looked up from the map and smiled at the mercenary. “I look forward to meeting this 'Iron Bull'.”

“We're the best you can buy. Meet us at the Storm Coast and you can see us in action,” he said with a friendly nod and a smile.

She took her leave and thought as she walked. Cass had said they needed agents in more places. The Chargers just might be a good fit. She would bring it to the leadership's attention at the next meeting. She found herself wandering down toward the barracks and wondered why her feet had carried her there. Several recruits were already up with the sun running drills. She made her way over silently stopping slightly beside and behind Cullen to watch.

He was barking orders to the men as he noticed imperfections in their footing or stance. “You there! There's a shield in your hand, block with it! If this man were your enemy, you'd be dead!” She noticed his back stiffen slightly before he turned to one of his officers and said. “Lieutenant! Don't hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.”

“Yes, Commander,” the man saluted and moved away to continue the drills.

Evelyn caught a small smirk playing on his lips as he crossed his arms and his body noticeably relaxed. “We've received a number of recruits. Locals from Haven and some pilgrims.” He turned his face toward her, indicating he had known she was there the entire time without even having to glance behind him. “None made quite the entrance you did.”

She felt herself grinning madly as she stepped up beside him with a chuckle, her hands clasped behind her back as she continued to watch the drills. “At least I got everyone's attention.”

“That you did,” he agreed. He began to stroll slowly by the recruits, his eyes still hunting for imperfections. “I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself. I was there during the mage uprising. I saw first hand the devastation it caused.” A scout scurried up behind them with a clipboard and a muttered, 'sir'. Cullen took the parchment and read it, his eyes scanning quickly over the words. “Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.”

“The Conclave destroyed, a giant hole in the sky... Things aren't looking good,” she agreed while he finished reading the missive.

“Which is why we're needed,” he said, his arm going lax beside him, his other hand predictably resting on his sword hilt. “The Chantry lost control of both the Templars and Mages,” he handed the report off to another scout who left to deliver it elsewhere. “Now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be part of that. There is so much we can...” He stopped himself with a chuckle, shaking his head. “Forgive me. I doubt you came her for a lecture.”

Her chuckle joined his. “No, but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it.”

He laughed again, some of the weariness leaving his features as he smiled. “Another time perhaps.” When she simply batted her lashes and smiled, his smile Faded slightly and his right hand found the back of his neck. She could have kicked herself. She wiped the grin from her face and shuffled her feet. “I ah...” he cleared his throat and seemed to regain himself, the smile returning to pull up the right side of his lips. “There's still a lot of work ahead.” Another scout approached with another report. He turned to take the clipboard, the lopsided grin still on his face and a bit of a swagger in his step. “As I was saying...”

Evelyn watched him walk away, finding herself having to tear her eyes away from his backside. Maker, what was she doing? He was a Templar. Evelyn made herself scarce for the remainder of the day, working the redness from her cheeks. Every time she thought about that adorable lopsided smile tugging at the scar on his lip, her heart fluttered and the blush returned. What would those lips feel like pressed against hers. “Stop it, Evelyn!” she chided herself as she stomped toward the Tavern to get dinner. She pushed her way through the door, struggling to close it behind her as the wind gusted. They were probably looking at a blizzard heading through. She shook off her chill and was going to head for a table by herself when his voice called to her. “Evelyn!”

The blush returned and she hoped she could blame it on the weather. She turned to face him. “Commander,” she said pleasantly.

His brow furrowed as he frowned. _What had she said?_ “Would you, uh... like to join me?”

She felt herself smile and she moved toward his table. “As long as I'm not intruding.”

He snorted. “Not at all.” She sat and Flissa brought her a steaming bowl of stew. She nodded and thanked her before returning her gaze to him. _Had he been staring?_ He dropped his spoon into his bowl and quickly grabbed it back up. After laughing at himself, he said, “We didn't have much chance to talk earlier.” She took a tentative sip of her stew and allowed him to choose the topic of conversation since he'd been so eager to call her over. After a brief pause he said. “You traveled some distance to reach Haven. You're from the Circle in Ostwick?”

She nodded and licked her lips. “I spent the better part of my life there. It feels strange to be away.”

He fidgeted with his spoon. “It does at times. I'm still getting used to it myself,” he admitted. “It's been... interesting.” With a quick shake of his head he said, “I'm sorry. The Circle isn't the most pleasant topic of conversation, right now... or ever. Shall we speak of something else?”

He opened the floor to her. Since he had stuck to something they had in common, she decided to delve a bit deeper into the mystery that was Cullen. “I should get to know you better. We are working together after all.”

“What would you like to know?” he asked, reclining back in his chair, his expression relaxed.

“Alright, where are you from?” She knew his accent was Ferelden, but he had mentioned Kirkwall.

“I grew up in Ferelden near Honnleath. I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight. This is the first I've returned in almost ten years,” he said wistfully.

“You haven't seen Ferelden in ten years?” she asked, homesick _for_ him. “Are you glad to be back?”

“I was not sorry to leave at the time. I did not expect to return. Now, between the Divine's murder and the Breach, I've arrived to find nothing but chaos.”

“So you were in Ferelden during the Blight? Did you fight Darkspawn?” She asked, hoping for a more personal insight.

“No. I was stationed in Ferelden's Circle Tower. The Circle had troubles of it's own. I... remained there... during the Blight.” His relaxed posture seemed to shift and he leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

“What happened at the Circle Tower?” she asked softly, her dinner all but forgotten as she studied the hurt behind his eyes. The amber irises shimmered with a suffocating amount of ghosts and he refused to meet her gaze.

“Few who survived the Blight have fond memories of that time. I would prefer not to speak of it.” He looked up, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Maker, I'm shite at finding anything good to talk about,” she said, trying to drag the mood out of the muck and save the conversation. “So was Kirkwall any better? What was it like?”

He shook his head, a pained chuckle resonating from his throat. “While I was there, Qunari occupied and then attacked the city. The Viscount's murder caused political unrest. Relations between mages and templars fell apart. An apostate blew up the Chantry. The Knight-Commander went mad. Other than that, it was fine.” The sarcasm ringing in his voice brought a smile to her face.

“What happened between Kirkwall's mages and templars?” she asked picking her spoon back up and stirring her stew, working the film that had formed on the top back into the mixture.

“You were at the Conclave. You must have heard people speak of it,” he said with a sigh.

“Yes, but you were there,” she prodded.

With a deep sigh as he picked up his cup and took a gulp, he met her gray eyes with his and studied her for a moment. “There was tension between mages and templars long before I arrived. Eventually, it reached a breaking point. There was fighting in the streets and Abominations began killing both sides. It was a nightmare.”

“What happened then?” she asked, curious how the truth might stack up to Varric's book.

“Templars should have restored order, but red lyrium had driven Knight-Commander Meredith mad. She threatened to kill Kirkwall's Champion, turned on her own men. I'm not sure how far she would have gone. Too far.”

“So you opposed her?” Evelyn asked, clues to his personality seeping through the cracks with every sentence he spoke.

“I stood with the Champion against her in the end. I should have seen through Meredith sooner.”

Sensing that this topic would only lead to more brooding from the Commander, she said, “Varric's from Kirkwall. Did you two know each other?”

“I knew he was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall, but little else. We've spoken more since I joined the Inquisition. Largely at Varric's insistence.” His smirk returned. “Apparently I spend too much time with a serious expression on my face, and it's bad for my health.”

She chuckled, dropping her spoon belligerently back into the hopeless bowl of cold stew. “I need a drink.

“Allow me,” he said as the wind picked up outside, howling like a pack of hungry wolves. He called to Flissa and got a refill for himself too.

She guided the conversation to much more neutral ground, asking him about Templar training and how it was to be a Templar in the Circle. She only had experience from her own perspective. They were into their third shared drink and Evelyn could feel the permanent warmth of her skin that told her she had probably had too much. She had never seen Cullen so relaxed. The dark circles that usually took up residence below his eyes had all but disappeared as they engaged in a pleasant conversation. It was nice to see this side of him. “Do Templars take vows?” she asked innocently. “ _I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages..._ That sort of thing?”

He chuckled. “There's a vigil first. You're meant to be at peace during that time, but your life _is_ about to change. When it's over, you give yourself to a life of service. That's when you're given a philter. Your first draught of Lyrium and it's power. As templars you are not to seek wealth or acknowledgment. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we've chosen.”

Evelyn's mouth took off without her brain and she grinned. “A life of service _and_ sacrifice. Are templars also expected to give up... physical temptations?”

“Physical? Why...?” He cleared his throat quickly and she saw a slight flush come to his cheeks. “Why would you...? That's not expected. Templars _can_ marry, al-although there are rules. The Order must grant permission. Some may choose to give up... more... to prove their devotion, but it's not required.” he picked up his mug and took a gulp as the reddening of his cheeks deepened.

“Have you?” she teased, tracing the rim of her own mug as she watched his eyes widen. Finally a topic she was enjoying. Making him blush and stutter was the highlight of her evening.

“Me?!” he asked, the mug nearly slipping from his hand. He set it down quickly as to avoid wearing it's contents. “I.. ummm... uh no. I've taken no such vows.” He shifted in his chair. “Maker's breath, shouldn't we speak of something else?” She chuckled heartily before finishing off her ale. Before she could order another one, he said. “Shall I walk you home?”

She pouted a bit, but he was likely right. Alcohol was making her tongue bold. She agreed and he followed her out into the angry storm. “Andraste's tits!” she cursed as the cold ripped the air from her lungs. She wrapped her arms around herself, started toward her cabin and heard a rustling behind her. Before she had made it three steps, a soft warm fabric was draped over her shoulders.

She glanced around and he had removed his cloak to give to her. The fur pauldrons tickled her cheek as she regarded him, the smirk on his face belying nothing of the awkwardness he had been feeling moments before. “You know it is very unbecoming of the 'Herald of Andraste' to use such language,” he mocked his hand landing briefly on the small of her back to hurry her along.

“Well then, it's a good thing I'm not Her Herald then,” she retorted, basking in the warmth that radiated from the cloak. His laughter was carried away on the wind as they walked. Too soon they reached her door and she opened it inwards so the wind would not take it off the hinges. She made to take off his cloak and return it but something occurred to her. She paused. “You sleep down at the barracks, right? With the rest of the soldiers?”

He cocked his head. “Of course.”

She shook her head. “On a night like this, you should be indoors. It's freezing.”

“Evelyn, I...” his hand found his neck.

She waved him off and pulled him inside. “It won't do for the Commander of the Inquisition to freeze to death. I've got plenty of blankets and plenty of floor.”

She shut the door behind him and moved to ignite the fireplace. On any other night, she would use her magic, but it felt important to try and do it normally while Cullen watched. He stood stiff in the doorway, looking like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Finally, his right one found his neck again as she hunted for some flint. She finally found it in a drawer of the desk and she knelt by the fireplace to set to work. After six failed attempts, she heard him clear his throat. “It's okay, Evelyn. I know if I weren't here you wouldn't be using flint. Just light the blasted fire. It's cold.”

She sighed, dropped the flint into a corner by the fire and stood. With a short burst of mana, she pushed the magic to the glyph she'd traced in the fireplace her first night there. The fire roared to life and she brushed her hands together with self satisfaction. He was still in her entryway, dripping a puddle from his boots onto the floor and looking rather spooked. She shrugged his cloak from her shoulders, and the warmth left her body. Containing her shudder, she walked back over to him and handed it back. “Thank you, Cullen.”

“Um, you're welcome,” he stuttered. “I really should be...”

“No,” she insisted, grasping his hand and pulling him further inside. “Have a seat by the fire. Warm up a bit. I don't bite.”

He studied her warm smile and she made certain he wasn't going to bolt before letting go of his hand to drag the desk chair up behind him. She nodded to the chair and he sighed before draping the cloak over the back and sitting. She knelt and rummaged through her clothing bin. After a quick change of clothes while he obediently stared into the fire, she laid a hand in his shoulder before padding over to her bed and sitting on the edge. Her left fingers began twitching as the mark flared slightly as is seemed to do every now and again. She lifted the hand and used the other to rub her pressure points with her thumb. She looked up and noticed he was watching her. “Does that happen often?” he asked, his voice sympathetic.

She shook her head. “Every now and then, but I think I've gotten used to it. Apparently it's not going away any time soon, so I adjusted.”

He stood and walked over to her. “May I?” he asked holding out his hand.

She looked down at her own palm where the mark glowed a soft green before lifting it to place it in his. He knelt before her to get a better angle and his callused fingers gently probed the mark as a barely there frown creased his brow. She could smell the Lyrium on him, but it was faint like a far away dream. Most templars reeked of the stuff. To her, they always smelled vibrant, like petrichor. His smell was muted, more Cullen than Lyrium. He had the hands of a seasoned swordsman, hard and rough, but he touched her like she was glass. Her fingers twitched again, but this time it was with the urge to run her hands through his wavy hair that was still damp from the snowfall outside. She bit her lip and gently pulled her hand away using it and the other to grip the bed frame on either side of her thighs. He gave her no indication in his expression whether he knew what she was thinking. He simply raised back to his feet and turned the chair so it was facing her before sitting.

After a few minutes of awkward false starts with different topics, they finally began discussing the other people around them. It was not a personal subject, but it was something they both should know about each other. Opinions mattered when it came to world shaking things like the Inquisition.

Hours later, she was propped on her left elbow under her blankets, the mark buried in her hair as she laughed. He was chuckling from a few feet away on the floor, his boots kicked off and his armor abandoned by the fire. His amber eyes were sparkling with humor as he looked at her from where he was lying on his back, one leg outstretched and the other bent at the knee. His hands were clasped loosely over his abdomen. He was a picture and whenever he wasn't looking, Evelyn caught her eyes wandering up and down his body, drinking him all in. Their conversation soon turned softer and she felt her lids drooping. “Evelyn?” she heard him whisper

“Mmmhmm?” she mumbled, trying to pry her lids back open, but to no avail.

“Goodnight.”

 

His voice followed her into her dreams and when she awoke in the morning, she was not surprised that he had already left. She sat up and stretched. After she glided over to her desk, she saw a small parchment folded and placed to be standing like a tent. His note was brief, but it made her smile. _Thank you for last night. Both the fire and the conversation kept me warm._

Two days later, she, Vivienne, Sera and Cass were heading for the Storm Coast so they could assess The Bull's Chargers and deal with some reports of Fade Rifts and other disturbances in the area.

She had almost immediately regretted her decision to bring both Sera and Vivienne. She nearly wished that she was listening to Varric and Cass bicker rather than Sera and Viv. For six and a half days, the only break in the silence of the road was Sera making a rude noise and Vivienne scolding her for it in a manner that made Sera repeat the rude noise and then add rude words to it. Then Cass would make her token noise of disgust and Evelyn would sigh.

When she was finally greeted by Scout Harding, she could have hugged the dwarf. “Your Worship! For what it's worth, welcome to the Storm Coast. I would have sent word sooner, but our efforts have been... delayed.”

“How so?” Evelyn asked, a frown creasing her forehead as rain drops dripped from her hair into her eyes. They didn't call it the Storm Coast for nothing.

“There's a group of bandits operating in the area. They know the terrain and our small party has had trouble going up against them. Some of our soldiers went to speak with their leader.” She shifted her feet and frowned as well. “Haven't heard back, though.”

“Of course you haven't,” Evelyn said with a sigh.

“The soldiers didn't have an exact location for the bandits, but they were starting their search farther down the beach. With all this fuss, we haven't been able to conduct a proper search for the Wardens, either... Well, good luck, and enjoy the sea air. I hear it's good for the soul.”

Evelyn chuckled and brushed water from her brow. She needn't have bothered at this point. Her clothes were soaked through and she was dripping from everywhere. The only good thing about the rain was that it was keeping Sera quiet. Evelyn genuinely liked the girl, but bringing her out with Vivienne in tow was not going to be a choice Evelyn ever made again.

They set off from the camp on foot towards the beach. The location that had been given to her by the Charger's messenger was not far. There were beached ships in random locations up and down the shore and the waves crashed angrily against the sand and rocks. Evelyn ventured as deep as she dared to grab a few clippings of spindleweed for Adan before she heard the sounds of fighting. “Come on,” she called, taking off at a jog with her boots squishing uncomfortably under her feet. She was starting to feel blisters forming. She grabbed her staff from her back and when she spotted the battle raging, she quickly took account of the two separate groups. “Tevinters!” She shouted, marking the distinct clothing of the Northern country. Her staff flared to life in her hands and she began to throw defensive spells up to help the Chargers. This had to be the Chargers, she assumed. The young boy had mentioned Tevinters. Vivienne strode into the fray, her Spirit Blade manifesting as Sera charged past Evelyn, her shirt catching fire as she smashed one of her little potion bottles against her chest. She cackled wildly as she ran up toward one of the Tevinter soldiers and shouted 'Boo' in his face making him run from her so she could turn his back into a pincushion. _An interesting strategy_ , Evelyn thought as the flames on Sera's clothes petered out.

The Chargers barely needed their help and the fight ended quickly. Evelyn leaned on her staff to draw in a deep breath. “Chargers! Stand down!” a deep commanding voice carried over the beach and she turned to face the impressive mountain before her. “Krem! How'd we do?”

She watched him stroll past and address the boy who she'd met at Haven. “Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead,” the soldier reported, his hands clasped behind his back.

“That's what I like to hear. Let the throat cutters finish up then break out the casks.” When 'Krem' left with a nod, Evelyn got the full view of the Qunari. He was easily 8' tall and built to match. He wore no shirt, Evelyn assumed, because there would never be a shirt large enough to fit him. He protected himself with a simple studded leather shoulder guard. The grey skin of his chest and face was riddled with battle scars. His black horns reminded her greatly of a bull's and it dawned on her that this must be Iron Bull. His right horn anchored a strap to his head that held an eye patch to cover his missing left eye. He carried a gigantic hammer on his back and when he gazed at her she saw his one eye size her up in a single swoop before he grinned widely. “So, you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

“Iron Bull, I presume,” Evelyn said, following the walking battering ram to take a seat on a nearby log that had likely recently been driftwood until high tide had come in.

“Yeah, the horns usually give it away.” From what Evelyn gathered, the Qunari were usually a pretty stoic bunch, but this one seemed different. Not to mention he was the only one of his kind in his company. “I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my Lieutenant.”

The soldier in question appeared beside her. “Nice to see you again,” he said with a smile. “Throat cutters are done, Chief.”

“Already? Have them check again I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.” The Iron Bull chuckled and Evelyn noticed that the soldier was indeed colored like he was from Tevinter. His skin was an attractive mocha color and his hair a light brown to match.

“None taken. At least a bastard knows who his mother was,” the boy retorted sassily as he turned on his heel to carry out his orders. “One up on you Qunari, right?”

“So, you've seen us fight. We're expensive, but we're worth it.” A short chuckle. “And I'm sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

“The Chargers seem like an excellent company,” Evelyn agreed.

“They are, but you're not just getting the boys. You're getting me. You need a front line bodyguard. I'm your man. Whatever it is... Demons, Dragons, the bigger the better.” He stood and smirked as he passed her to look out over the ocean. “And there's one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off.” Evelyn crossed her arms and waited for the ball to drop. “Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?”

“They're a Qunari organization, right? The equivalent of their guards and city watch?” Evelyn guessed, remembering back to an old tome she'd read back at the Circle.

“I'd go closer to 'spies', but yeah, that's them. Or, well, us,” he admitted with a shrug that could lift a boulder. “The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what's happening. But I also _get_ reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I'll share them with your people.”

Evelyn tasted raindrops falling into her open mouth. She shut it and shook off her shock. “You're a Qunari spy, and you just... told me?”

“Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it's bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So, whatever I am, I'm on your side.”

“You still could have hidden what you are,” she said, still flabbergasted.

“From something called the 'Inquisition'? I'd've been tipped sooner or later,” he said chuckling. “Better you hear it right up front... from me.”

Without much more thought, Evelyn liked what she was hearing. She had faith that Leliana would make certain that Bull and his Chargers couldn't send anything that might compromise them, and his honesty was refreshing. “All right. You're in,” she said holding out her hand for him to shake.

“Excellent!” He said with excitement. His giant hand was like three of her own wrapping around hers, but he was very aware of his own strength and his shake was gentle. “Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road! The Chargers just got hired.”

“What about the casks, Chief?! We just opened them up!... with axes...” the boy complained.

“Find some way to seal them. You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic...” he said sarcastically. “We'll meet you back at Haven,” he called over his shoulder to Evelyn.

They took care of several more issues along the Coast. Four days in the never ending rain and Evelyn was ready to rip her hair out by the time they were making their way down the beach toward the base camp to pick up their horses. They had just closed a rift not far away and as she walked, she began to feel the ground shaking beneath her feet. She looked up and beside her, Sera was giggling with glee. “Wow! We can watch, yeah?” she begged.

Evelyn and the others scurried behind a huge rock as before their eyes on the beach a battle unfolded between a giant and a dragon. She stared in awe as the two massive creatures fought for dominance. The giant was in the process of uprooting a boulder from the ground while the dragon unleashed an ear splitting shriek of anger. The giant swung it's body, lobbing the boulder at the dragon. It connected with the dragon's horn, disorienting the beast for a split second. As it shook it's head, the giant smashed it's fists downwards, vibrating the earth all around them. Evelyn's whole body shuddered as the air filled with magic. The dragon inhaled a massive breath and from it's lungs, crackling bolts of lightning shot towards the giant. If she hadn't been drenched from the rain, Evelyn was certain that her hair would have stood on end from the sheer amount of electricity in the air. She inhaled deeply with her gasp and was oddly reminded of Cullen. “Petrichor,” she whispered, her hand falling to her chest as her heart raced.

“It does smell a bit odd over here,” Vivienne said with her lip curled. She completely missed Evelyn's meaning and Evelyn pressed her lips together and flushed, inwardly scolding herself for not having better control over her hormones. The dragon reached out it's neck and took a bite at the giant. It took a chunk from the creature's side and the giant fell to it's knees. Another blast of lightning from the dragon and the giant was dead. The dragon roared in victory and spread it's massive wings before taking off to likely return to it's nest.

After a few moments, Evelyn had regained her senses and she stood from her crouch. “Let's get out of here,” she said, limping away as the blisters on her feet rubbed against her boots.

 

By getting the Blades of Hessarian on their side on the Coast, Evelyn had convinced Cullen that with them, The Chargers, and other angles that Josie had been working while they were gone, that they had garnered enough influence to at least meet with the templars. Evelyn was still curious about Fiona's offer, however and she had convinced at least Cassandra by the time they rode up on Haven that they should simply go to Redcliffe and assess the situation before they made any rash decisions. Siding with the templars now would ensure Fiona never spoke to them.

She guided her horse towards the stables. Between the stables and Haven's front gate, Bull and his men had set up a small camp for themselves. She glanced toward the Barracks where sure enough, Cullen stood, running drills with some new recruits. Their numbers were growing, she noted. The sun reached down from the sky and glinted off his cuirass as he moved, his hands resting on his sword hilt. She flashed him a smile when he glanced in her direction and his hand raised slightly in a wave. Before she could respond, a giant mass of gray flesh stepped into her vision. “Welcome back!” Bull said, his deep voice dislodging a few crows from where they had gathered on the stable's roof. His head cocked, his left horn pointing upwards as his one eye took in her still soggy appearance. “Here I've got just the thing for you, Boss.” He reached up and his massive hands wrapped around her waist encompassing her entire person with just his hands. He lifted her up and out of the saddle to set her gently on the ground while she let out a short shriek of surprise. “Krem! You got any more of that foot shit?”

Krem appeared beside Bull with a small jar in his hands. “The last jar, Chief.”

He took the jar and handed it to Evelyn who was still reeling. “There. Rub that crap into your blisters and they'll be gone in a few days.”

After studying the jar, Evelyn lifted her eyes to Bull's face. “How did you...?”

He let out a bellowing chuckle. “Ben-Hassrath, remember? Your face was pinched. You have just spent days slogging up and down the Coast, and you were milking that horse ride until the last second.”

“You're definitely worth the price, Bull,” she said with a laugh. “Thank you,” she indicated the jar and he stepped out of her way.

“I could carry you to your quarters?” he offered snarkily as she limped past.

“I think I can make it,” she said with another chuckle.

“Race ya, Herald!” Sera mocked as she jogged by, then giggled and ran ahead. “I win!” The raspberry left her tongue and she turned and ran through the gates as Evelyn shook her head smiling.

“You certainly outdid yourself when you accepted that one into your ranks, my dear,” Vivienne said, gliding past Evelyn, her nose in the air.

As Evelyn limped her way to the gates, she stole one more glance at Cullen and flushed as she realized he was still watching her. His expression was curious and he cocked his head when their eyes met. _Are you alright_? She nodded and smiled, then indicated herself and flapped her hand in front of her nose. _I just need a bath_. His adorable lopsided grin spread across his face and he lowered his eyes to shake his head before his attention was drawn away by his troops.

Evelyn was never more excited to see the bathtub returned to her cabin. “Josie, I could kiss you,” she said to herself as she set the jar that Bull had given her on the desk and immediately sat in what she had deemed Cullen's chair to strip her clothing. She started with the boots, unlacing them and slowly pulling them off over her socks with a hiss. She took a moment and then decided to roll the damp socks off instead of yanking them off so every inch could scrape across her tender feet. The sock had small stains all over it from the blisters that had already burst inside the boots. Starting with the right, she slowly rolled up the fabric, revealing the awful sight beneath. Every point of her foot that came anywhere near a seam in her boots was affected, which was so say her whole foot. The skin was swollen and bubbled, waiting to burst after she allowed them to dry out. She dreaded that. The ones that had already burst were red and angry. She dropped the sock to the floor with disgust and then swapped sides, lifting her other foot to rest on her knee and again slowly peeling the sock off. This foot was no different. She hissed again as the air hit the raw flesh beneath the already burst pustules.

With her feet liberated, she began unbuckling her leather vest and she pulled off her lightly armored gloves. The clothing was stiff underneath from the abuse of getting so wet and then being left to dry repeatedly without washings. When she was finally stripped to the skin, she touched a finger to the side of the bathtub and warmed the water so it was steaming. Her feet screamed in protest as she dipped them in the water, but the rest of her body sang in joy. The warm water was an extremely welcome change from the freezing pelting of the rain of the coast. She sank in, neck deep, and rested the back of her head on the rim of the tub. It felt wonderful to simply soak. She knew that in a few days, they would likely either be setting out for Therinfal, or back to the Hinterlands. She was going to leave the decision to the higher ups. For now all she needed was to bask.

 


	5. Altered Rifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn heads to Redcliffe to see exactly what the mage rebellion is up to and is greeted by a disturbing surprise.

Evelyn had shamelessly bent the doubters to her will when she had suggested to kill two birds with one stone in the Hinterlands. While she was in Redcliffe to meet the mages, she could stop back at Lake Luthias to try and find the Warden that Leliana had mentioned since the Warden camps on the Coast had turned up empty. This was how she was triumphantly riding back to the Hinterlands. They reached the lake around mid afternoon and she dismounted, leaving her horse at the small waterfall camp they had established on their last visit. “So, Boss, how do we know this guy is gonna be here?”

She glanced up at Bull, her mark taking a moment to send tingles up her arm. She shook out the numbness and said, “We don't 'know' he'll be here, but Leliana is hoping we'll find him and he'll know where the rest of the Wardens are.”

“Red's info looked good when I read it. Let's hope her people are as good as she is.”

“You read her report?” Evelyn asked with a smirk.

“You might want to be careful you don't wake up missing your other eye, Tiny,” Varric warned.

Bull made a noise of disagreement. “Red likes it when I translate her reports for the Ben-Hassrath. I'm teaching her a bit of Qunlat so she can spy on me, too. It's a fair exchange.” He adjusted his foot wide belt and rolled his shoulders.

“How terribly civil,” Vivienne remarked with a scowl.

“Yes, ma'am,” Bull said, visibly cowed by the much smaller woman.

“Let us go before this 'Blackwall' moves on, shall we?” Viv waltzed past, the sunlight catching her Hennin through the trees as she swayed her hips.

“The Iron Lady has spoken,” Varric said with a smirk as he followed behind her.

The lake was calm compared to the roaring ocean side of the Coast. Birds chirped and Evelyn followed the water line until they reached a spot where she could easily hop across without dampening her boots. Her blisters had all healed magnificently with the help of Bull's salve, but she had no intention of repeating the experience if she could help it. The tip of her staff brushed the water as she went over and it sent ripples outwards to disturb the lake, creating tiny lapping waves at the edge of the dock. Wild Rams and Fennic meandered about until they were chased away by Bull crashing through the water and talking loudly. Her boots hit the dock and the sound joined Bull's voice to carry across the lake. She followed the wooden path to a small house that was built likely by a fisherman. To the side of the house, she found her prize. Three farmers stood nervously in a line, swords and shields grasped in their hands as they listened to the person pacing in front of them.

He was tall and lean, though you wouldn't know it to look at his armor. He sported a cuirass over top of a well padded coat, secured with simple wooden eyelets. The coat was a dark blue and both his shield and cuirass sported the griffin symbol of the Wardens. “Remember how to carry your shield. You're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise, it's useless...”

“Blackwall?” Evelyn pitched her voice to be heard, but it was hardly necessary in the quiet. “Warden Blackwall?”

The man turned his attention to her his sharp features both angry and curious. He had neck length black hair that he had slicked back off his face and a long black beard that fell in sharp points longer than the rest on both sides. He stared daggers at her as she approached, the rest of her party falling back. “You're not... How do you know my name? Who sent...” his question was cut short as he lifted his arm and cried out a warning. An arrow embedded into his shield and Evelyn turned her head toward the thunking sound to see that it had been aimed at her face. “That's it! Help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first.” He lowered his arm and ignored her thanks as he pushed past her. “Conscripts! Here they come!” He rallied the farmers and they all charged at the men who had released the arrow.

Evelyn balked for a split second and then her staff was in her hands. Bull bellowed in excitement and charged at the group, his hammer smashing through two at a time. “Hey! Leave some for us, Tiny!” Varric complained.

It was over quickly and Evelyn dropped her guard as soon as Bull stashed his hammer, knowing he was fully aware that there were no more bandits to attack them. Blackwall dropped his sword into the ground at his feet and left it standing upright to kneel beside one of the bodies. He closed the man's eyes and sighed. “Sorry bastards.” He stood and approached the farmers who were amazingly all still alive. “Good work conscripts. Even if this shouldn't have happened. They could have... well, thieves are made, not born. Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves.” Once the men had left, Blackwall turned his piercing gaze back on Evelyn. “You're no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?”

Evelyn smirked. “I've been called a lot of things lately by a lot of people.”

“Well, _I'm_ talking to you. Stop dancing,” he said crossing his arms and showing her there was no room for nonsense. His voice was gruff and mildly intimidating. “Wait, that gear. That's Inquisition.”

“And we're investigating whether missing Wardens are involved in the Divine's death,” Evelyn explained, impressed that he had sussed out who she was.

He started to pace. “Maker's balls. The Wardens and the Divine? That can't... No, you're asking, so you don't really know.” he paused and glanced at her. “First off, I didn't know they disappeared, but we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you. No Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose _isn't_ political.”

“I'm not here to accuse,” Evelyn said holding up her palms. “Not yet. I just need information. I've only found you. Where are the rest?”

He shrugged. “I haven't seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there's no blight coming. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need. Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I 'conscripted' their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time, they won't need me.” His expression softened into sadness and he breathed. “Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are.”

Evelyn sighed. “It's been a pleasure Warden Blackwall, but this didn't help at all.” Leliana was going to be disappointed, and now Evelyn was even more suspicious of where the Wardens had gone. If one of their own didn't even know...

“Inquisition... agent, did you say? Hold a moment.” Evelyn stopped in her tracks as Blackwall caught up to her as she walked away. “The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved.” She inclined her head in agreement. Did he know something after all? “If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.”

Perhaps bringing him back to Haven would give Leliana a chance to work her magic on him and get a few more answers. “Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer,” she said with a smile.

The first smile she'd seen him crack spread across his face. “Good to hear. We both need to know what's going on, and perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition.” He balled his right hand into a fist and saluted her before taking his leave when she directed him towards Haven with a scrawled note for Leliana.

 

They camped for the night by the waterfall and the next morning, they set off for Redcliffe. On their way to the road, Varric pointed towards the Hills. “Is that smoke?”

Sure enough, rising from the other side of the road heading south, black smoke rose high into the sky. “Sweet Maker,” Evelyn gasped, taking off towards the blaze. Her companions followed after and as she panted, reaching the top of the steep incline, she was set upon by a group of three templars. Behind them, a house burned. Her staff was already in her hand. “So you like fire, do you?” She mentally drew a glyph on the ground at their feet and threw some mana into it, igniting a circle of flames beneath them. The men screamed as they danced out of the flames, but Evelyn was not done. She twirled her staff in quick succession, her fingers flicking almost as quickly, the glyph appearing before her in mid air. She pushed mana through the glyph at the same time she stabbed the ground with the butt of her staff, adding a boost of power. Dozens of small angry fireballs shot like missiles from the glyph, all of them seeking a target. The templars all fell and as soon as she was convinced they were dead, she ran towards the door of the house. When she gripped the handle, the heat from inside burned her hand and she hissed, pulling it back. “It's locked.”

Varric's hand fell on her arm. “I can pick it. Give me a moment, Aurora.”

“Quick. Someone might still be alive in there,” she urged. As Varric knelt to quietly pick the lock on the heated door, Evelyn felt eyes on her back. She spun to see Vivienne regarding her with scorn and Bull looking both awed and shocked. “What?” she barked

“I believe you need to get a hold of your emotions before we head to Redcliffe, my dear,” Vivienne said, crossing her arms. “That was a dangerous display of raw power.”

“I was raised in a Circle, Vivienne. I know how to control myself,” she spat back. “Do we have a problem here?”

“Done,” Varric announced and Evelyn didn't wait for Vivienne to answer. She pushed open the door with her foot and stepped boldly inside. She witnessed a sight that would haunt her nightmares for weeks. Huddled in a corner were three people, all wearing mage robes, and hugging each other. Their skin had not yet been caught on fire, but they were clearly dead, slumped together. Tears streaked the woman's face. “It was locked from the inside,” Varric whispered.

Evelyn choked back her own tears. “The mages locked themselves in for safety so the templars burned the house down around them... Bastards.” Evelyn clenched her fists, furious as her lungs began to burn. She coughed and Varric gently pulled her back out into the fresh air.

“Are we done here? Redcliffe awaits,” Vivienne asked as if she were asking where the privy was.

Varric flinched and Bull danced from one foot to the other. “A little respect _Madame de Fer,”_ Evelyn spat her name. “Innocent mages died in there!”

Vivienne shrugged. “Templars died out here, my dear. A pity we could not save them, but such is the price for apostacy.”

Evelyn didn't realize she was moving until she collided with Iron Bull's solid body. “Easy, Boss.” His hands were wrapped around her upper arms and even if she had wanted to struggle, she could not outclass Bull.

She glared around him at Vivienne who did not even blink. She stood with her hands on her hips and those hips cocked to the side. Evelyn could have thrown magic at the Enchanter, but she refused. She had better control than to be egged on by the likes of Vivienne. “Come on,” she snapped, wrenching from Bull's grip and straightening her vest. “Redcliffe awaits.”

They arrived at the gates around noon, only to be greeted by the strangest Fade rift they had yet encountered. Surrounding the rift were several pockets of energy that would either speed up or slow down the passage of time when you stepped inside them. Evelyn avoided the pockets as they tugged on her mana stores. Her teeth gritted together at the unpleasant tactile experience and she downed a lyrium potion to restore some of her power. The Lyrium energized her and she whipped out the end of her staff to crack the skull of a nearby shade and then dropped it to the ground and arced it to release the freezing wall of ice that would spear several demons as they tried to get close to her. She had noticed that as they traveled, and she got used to using her power, her discipline and ability had grown significantly. She could now store more mana within herself and her spells were much more effective. She had also found herself coming to terms with what Varric called the 'grey area'. It wasn't good, it wasn't evil... It was practical. Sometimes, you just had to kill people. Perhaps that is what Vivienne saw in her... Potential for too much pride.

When she'd finally closed the rift, Evelyn rubbed her stinging palm on her thigh and said, “What the hell was that?”

“This shit keeps getting weirder,” Varric agreed, storing Bianca on his back.

“I'm gonna need a drink after this,” Bull grumbled.

When the gates were opened and they entered Redcliffe, one of Leliana's people approached them. “We spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one here was expecting us.”

Evelyn exchanged a puzzled look with Varric who shrugged. “No one? Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?” she asked.

The man shrugged. “If she was, she hasn't told anyone. We've arranged use of the Tavern for the negotiations.”

An elven mage approached, breathless. “Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies. Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn't yet arrived. He's expected shortly. You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime.”

Nothing here was normal. They made their way through Redcliffe's steep streets and found their way to the Gull and Lantern. Inside was dimly lit. Not like Haven's tavern at all. Evelyn blinked, adjusting her eyes to the dark after coming in from the sunny day outside. “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition.” She heard the familiar voice before she saw the face it belonged to. Fiona sounded unsurprised, but curious. “ First Enchanter Vivienne...” Fiona greeted the other woman and Evelyn finally regained her vision to see Fiona regarding her small group like a cat with little regard for it's life if the old saying were true.

“My dear Fiona. It's been so long since we last spoke. You look dreadful! Are you sleeping well?” Vivienne chided with both amusement and venom leaking from her lips.

“What has brought you to Redcliffe?” Fiona asked, ignoring the jab, her eyes hunting for just who might be the one she should be addressing.

Evelyn stepped forward with her own look of confusion. “Is this some sort of test? We're here because you invited us in Val Royeaux.”

Fiona cocked her head, her pointed ears making the gesture somewhat amusing. “You must be mistaken. I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the conclave.”

“Well, that's very strange, because someone who looked exactly like you spoke to me in Val Royeaux,” Evelyn insisted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Exactly like me?” Fiona rubbed her hands together nervously. “I suppose it could be magic at work, but why would anyone...?” She sighed and lowered her eyes to shake her head in what Evelyn recognized as shame. “Whoever or... whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already... pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.”

Evelyn nearly gasped as Bull grunted. “This right here is why you can't trust mages.”

Evelyn heard the smirk in Vivienne's voice as she said, “Fiona, dear, your dementia is showing.”

Varric quickly added. “ Andraste's ass... I'm trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done, and I've got nothing.”

Evelyn was taken aback and her mind raced as Fiona spoke again. “As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.”

“An alliance with Tevinter is a terrible mistake,” Evelyn remarked softly as she tried to decide what to do.

“All hope of peace died with Justinia,” Fiona said sadly her face twisted in hopelessness. “This... bargain with Tevinter would not have been my first choice, but we _had_ no choice. We are losing this war. I needed to save as many of my people as I could.”

Her pitiful validations were cut off by the opening and closing of the tavern door, allowing a brief respite from the darkness as a group of men entered. They were dressed in typical Tevinter styling and Evelyn squinted her eyes in suspicion. No one from Tevinter could be taken lightly. “Welcome, my friends! I apologize for not greeting you earlier.” The man who spoke wore a deep red trimmed in gold and silver, his hood covering his hair. His face was weathered, but he moved with purpose and his voice was commanding.

“Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius,” Fiona recited formally, a slight tip to her head, dismissing herself from the conversation.

“The southern mages are under my command. And _you_ are the survivor, yes?” The way his eyes fell on Evelyn with a murderous greed made her tense up. Her skin was crawling and she could sense her companions shifting behind her. “The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

“You're quite a long way from Tevinter, Alexius,” Evelyn accused, holding her marked hand behind her back so he would stop staring at it like it would look nice on his mantle.

“Indeed I am, though I have heard you are no Ferelden either. It seems we are both strangers here,” he retorted then moved to seat himself at one of the long wooden tables in the common area.

Evelyn matched him step for step, her hand close to her staff in case she might need it. Once she was sitting, she stared at him momentarily until he glanced at the much younger boy that had arrived with him. Their clothes were similar, but the boy's were a bright yellow and very distinct. They shared many of the same features in their faces and Evelyn pegged them as family. “Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners, my son Felix, friends.” The boy bowed before turning to do his father's bidding. “I am not surprised you're here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt,” Alexius said, returning his gaze to Evelyn. “There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.”

He drew out the final word, making Evelyn squirm. As she was wont to do when she got nervous, she turned to humor, shifting in her seat. “Well, when you're fighting a massive tear in the sky, you can hardly afford to think small.”

“There will have to be...” Alexius was cut off by the return of his son. The boy approached them, swaying on his feet. Instinctively, Evelyn stood and moved toward him to make sure he was alright. He stumbled and fell into her outstretched arms. As she helped him regain his footing, she felt a small slip of paper being crushed into her palm. She closed her fist around it quietly as he glanced at her while his father gasped and approached. “Felix?”

“I'm so sorry,” Felix apologized, his right hand closing around Evelyn's arm, but he was not by any means leaning on her. “Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady.”

“Are you alright?” Alexius asked, the confident look on his face withering to one of actual fear.

“I'm fine, father,” Felix said, gently squeezing her arm before standing a bit straighter and releasing his grip.

“Come, I'll get your powders. Please excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time. Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle.”

“I don't mean to trouble everyone,” Felix apologized again, following behind his father.

“I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date.” Alexius swept away in a flurry, leaving Evelyn alone with her companions and a few other tavern goers.

She lifted her hand and opened her palm to unfold the paper Felix had slipped her. Written in a flourishing hand was a warning and an invitation. “Come to the Chantry, You are in danger.”

“Oooh, very mysterious,” Varric purred, coming to stand beside her.

“There's no telling who, or what will be waiting for us in that Chantry,” she said sighing and then lowering her hand to ball up the note and toss it in the fire nearby.

“Only one way to find out.” Varric nudged her and tossed his head and she couldn't help agreeing with him.

“Let's go.”

She left the tavern with the others behind her and climbed the hill to the Chantry. There were muffled noises from behind the large doors and Bull helped her to push them open quickly. Inside they were greeted by an active Fade rift in the middle of the aisles of pews. Most of said pews had been blown towards the wall by the force of the rift opening and Evelyn felt her mark spring to life. She reached for her staff to engage the demons pouring from the rift and then noticed that they were already engaged with someone else. A gorgeous man with dusky skin and brown hair shorn to his head on the sides and styled lavishly above his ears swung a staff, beating the demons with the ends. His footwork screamed mage, but since he was not using magic, she assumed he was conserving mana for a drawn out battle. Sweat glistened on his light brown skin beneath his distinctly foreign style robes. When he turned his gaze to them, a sardonic grin appeared, and his face revealed gray-brown eyes lined lightly with kohl and a exceptionally groomed handlebar mustache coupled with a tiny patch of hair just below his bottom lip. The whole thing was topped with high cheekbones and a mildly hooked nose that made her appreciate the beauty that could come from the Northern countries, for he was obviously from Tevinter. “Oh good, you're finally here. Now help me close this thing!”

He spun to continue his fight, finally calling his magic now that he had help and Evelyn and her gang sprang into action. She started with a barrier to give him a chance to back up and away from the thick of the battle where Bull needed to be. Varric continuously shot from behind one of the support pillars to her right and Vivienne looked as though she was not sure whether to kill demons or to do something about the unchecked Tevinter mage in their midst. Evelyn ignored the Enchantress and flung an invisible fist into a demon who had portaled through the ground and knocked Bull off his feet. The Qunari quickly regained himself and ran screaming at the demon who had hit him. Evelyn saw some of the wispy fog appear beneath her feet and she slid out of the way before the green crystals jutted up right where she had been standing. She quickly drew a glyph in her mind as a shade approached her, it's arm reared back to smack her with it's deadly claws. She released the magic into her staff and aimed the fireball into the shade's gut. It reared back, shrieking loudly as it was engulfed in magical flames. Another tried to take it's place, but a crossbow bolt zipped through it's head and it fell to the ground. Evelyn quickly glanced around to see if there were any more, but it looked quiet. The mysterious man stood beneath the rift as if awaiting more demons, but Evelyn scurried forward and lifted the mark to the rift. As the magic drew on her, her palm blazed like it was on fire. When the rift closed, she yanked her hand back and shook it to relieve the tingling from her fingers. Bits of rift rained down around the man as he turned to grin at her.

“Fascinating! How does that work exactly?” Evelyn regarded him, wondering what he had to do with everything that was going on. She slightly cocked her head and frowned down at her own palm as the green glow dimmed. He chuckled, a deep rich sound that drew her eyes back to him. “You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom... rift closes.”

“Who are you?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Ah! Getting ahead of myself again, I see,” he chided himself. His voice was pleasant to listen to as he decided to grandstand. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?” he gave a curt bow.

Bull grumbled from where he'd placed himself at her side. “Watch yourself... The pretty ones are always the worst.”

“Suspicious friends you have here,” Dorian chimed in. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable, as I'm sure you can imagine.”

“Are you a magister?” Evelyn asked, wondering if his assistance might cost more than it needed to.

Dorian rolled his eyes in exasperation. “All right, let's say this once, I'm a mage from Tevinter, but _not_ a member of the Magisterium. I know southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you sound like barbarians.”

“You're betraying your mentor because...?” Evelyn asked, ignoring the insult.

“Alexius _was_ my mentor. Meaning he's not any longer, not for some time,” Dorian corrected, shaking his head sadly. “Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious, even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you, as if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

“He arranged it so that he could arrive here just after the Divine died?” Evelyn mused, a bit shocked. Time magic was unheard of.

“You catch on quick,” Dorian said with an excited grin as if he were pleased to not have to explain things to her.

“Manipulating time itself? Many have attempted over the ages, but never once succeeded,” Vivienne said with a disbelieving tone laced in mocking amusement.

Dorian's smile Faded as he glanced around Evelyn to glare at Vivienne. “The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up, and slowed others down. Soon, there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world.” The last was delivered with pin point seriousness as Dorian spoke directly to Evelyn, choosing to ignore Vivienne and her mockery.

Evelyn didn't disbelieve him, but she was finding time travel hard to wrap her head around. “I'd like a bit more proof than 'magical time control, go with it',” she said snarkily.

Dorian wrinkled his nose. “I know what I'm talking about. I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work.” He lifted his arms and rested one elbow in the opposite palm to rub his chin. “What I don't understand is why he's doing it? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn't do it for them.” Evelyn spun and saw that Felix had finally joined them.

“Took you long enough,” Dorian said, his stance relaxing and a genuine smile gracing his face. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day.” He turned his attention from Dorian and landed his gaze on Evelyn. “My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori'. And I can tell you one thing. Whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you.”

“Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?” Evelyn asked in surprise.

“They're obsessed with you,” Felix said with a shrug. “But I don't know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“ _You_ can close the rifts,” Dorian said with a thoughtful scowl. “Maybe there's a connection? Or they see you as a threat?”

“If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought,” Felix said with anger.

“All this for me? And here I didn't get Alexius anything,” Evelyn quipped, her mind racing with possibilities. They needed to get back to Haven and talk to the others.

“Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those,” Dorian said with a grin. “You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage... I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch.” He turned with a short bow of his head to leave and then after a few steps spun to walk backwards, his palms pressed together in front of him. “Oh, and Felix, try not to get yourself killed.” Then he was gone.

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” the other man said to himself with a sigh before taking his own leave.

 

Evelyn had penned a letter to the leadership as soon as she left the Chantry and sent it ahead of them. They rode their horses hard to get back to Haven. Cullen was not at his post when they rode up to the stables and Bull took her reigns. “Go on, Boss. I'll take care of this.”

With a thanks, she took off toward the Chantry. As she jogged toward the war room, she could hear the muffled voices arguing within. “We don't have the manpower to take the castle. Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the Templars.” Cullen said, his voice grumpy.

She pushed the door open and everyone looked at her briefly as she took her usual place across from him. Cullen's eyes lingered on her a moment longer, flicking up and down her to see if she was alright before looking away. Cassandra continued the argument as if Evelyn hadn't interrupted and Evelyn took the opportunity to lean on the war table and catch her breath from running in the cold mountain air. “Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister. This cannot be allowed to stand.”

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It's an obvious trap,” Josephine said, pointing her quill toward Evelyn.

There was a letter? He must have sent it ahead as she had her Raven describing the situation. “Isn't that kind of him? What does Alexius say about me?” she asked, pushing away from the table to cross her arms.

“He's so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you,” Leliana said, her own arms crossed and a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Not this again,” Josie sighed.

Cullen was standing as he usually did, both hands resting on his sword, but his posture was anything but relaxed. “Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” He suddenly turned his gaze on her and she felt cowed as he ranted. “If you go in there, you'll die, and we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it.” Was he concerned for her or the mark? She frowned and cocked her hips.

“And if we don't even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep,” Leliana argued, dropping her arms.

“Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught,” Josephine added. “An 'Orlesian' Inquisition's army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

“The Magister...” Cassandra began.

“Has outplayed us!” Cullen growled.

“We can't just give up,” Evelyn found herself injecting her opinion into the argument even though she wasn't part of the leadership. This was no longer about the mages or getting help with the Breach. The time magic was a serious threat and they needed to find a way to fix it. “There has to be something we can do.”

“We cannot accept defeat now,” Cassandra agreed. “There must be a solution.”

They all glanced between each other and no one spoke up. Evelyn sighed. They were all so wrapped up in their own approach to the situation that they had not thought of a compromise. “Other than the main gate, there's got to be another way into the castle...” she reached across the table in front of Cullen and spun a small map of Redcliffe. “A sewer? A water course? Something?”

“There's nothing I now of that would work,” Cullen disagreed with a sigh.

“Wait!” All eyes snapped to Leliana. “There is a secret passage into the castle. An escape route for the family. It's too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“Too risky,” Cullen disagreed again. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

“That's why we need a distraction,” Leliana suggested with a coy smile. “Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly.”

“Focus their attention on Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters...” Cullen began to smirk as well. “It's risky, but it could work.”

The door swung open behind her with a loud crash. “Fortunately, you'll have help.” Dorian strode in with nothing less than a confident swagger. He had lost the traveling cloak, leaving him in an intricately designed cloth ensemble lined with more straps and buckles than Evelyn could count, and he was not carrying his staff. He gave off the air of one who was meant to be there in spite of the glares he was receiving from the Inquisition's leadership. He graced Evelyn with a flirtatious smile as one of Leliana's people jogged in behind him.

“This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander.” Leliana shooed the agent with a flick of her wrist and he closed the door behind him.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius' magic without my help. So if you're going after him, I'm coming along,” Dorian insisted as he had in the Chantry.

Cullen shook his head and sighed, glancing up to look at Evelyn. His voice softened. “The plan puts you in the most danger. We can't, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you'd rather not play the bait. It's up to you.”

He was leaving it up to her? All eyes fell on her and she flushed. She could feel Cullen trying to stare her into submission, but she felt strangely comfortable with Dorian at her back and she straightened her stance. “I'm not comfortable leaving Alexius in Redcliffe unchecked. I'll do it.”

“I will begin preparations,” Leliana said.

“I will send a missive informing the Magister that the Herald will be arriving within the week” Josephine added.

Cullen simply looked at her, his expression quizzical. She excused herself out from under the scrutiny and left the room, Dorian in tow. If she was arriving in Redcliffe 'within the week' as Josie put it, that meant she had very little time to relax before they would be on the road to the Hinterlands once more. She felt relief that Dorian was going to accompany them. That meant she could leave Vivienne here. Something about the woman was starting to irk her, although she couldn't place it. “ _I_ am returning to Redcliffe immediately if you don't mind,” Dorian said to her as they headed through the Chantry to leave. “I think someone should be monitoring the situation there.”

Evelyn agreed. Alexius needed someone watching him. “Keep me informed, please,” she requested as they exited the Chantry and he split from her, likely to get his things from wherever he had left them.

“I shall do my best,” he said with a grin.

 


	6. Into the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexius drops a spell on Evelyn that throws her a year into the future that has been ravaged by a terrible evil.

Redcliffe castle was huge. She had not gotten a chance to catch a glimpse of it the last time they were there and she was utterly impressed. A playful note brought by a raven had informed her that Dorian was in place with Leliana's people by the old broken down windmill. Bull and Varric had both agreed to come along as her back up in spite of the quickness in which they had to prepare to leave after just returning to Haven. Varric complained the whole time, but Evelyn had come to realize that it was just his way. He did it in good humor and she teased him back about it.

The castle loomed in front of her, blotting out the sun as she craned her neck to allow her eyes to follow multiple spires into the sky. Instead of gargoyles as she was used to in Ostwick, and Lions in Orlais, there were statues of Mabari placed all around the structure. They were admitted to the entrance hall where they were stopped by helmed guards. “Announce us,” she said with a sneer as they barred her way.

A blonde man dressed in clothing that marked him as Ferelden, as much as his hair did, strode forward to greet them. “The Magister's invitation was for Mistress Trevelyan alone. The rest will wait here.”

“They have to accompany me,” Evelyn insisted. “You wouldn't deprive me of my attaches, would you?”

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by as the man regarded them, his eyes sizing them up, while she found herself glaring in defiance. Without a word he finally nodded and turned to lead them to the throne room. They mounted a set of stairs and arrived at a finely crafted oak door with more Mabari carved into it. The man pushed it open and Evelyn was greeted by an almost barren room. It was rectangular in shape split halfway to the dais by another set of stairs. Evelyn chose to remain at the crest of the stairs and make Alexius come to her as the man that had brought them bowed deeply. “My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived.”

Alexius sat on the throne. How ambitious of him. Beside him stood Felix, playing innocent and at the bottom of the dais stairs stood Fiona. “My friend! It's so good to see you again!” Alexius stood and approached her. The way he kept calling her 'friend' was getting under her skin. “And your associates, of course.” At least he hadn't seemed to notice Vivienne's absence. Evelyn, on the other hand, had noticed the rows of Venatori that lined the hall, their numbers making her staff hand itchy. When had she become so open to murdering humans? “I'm sure we can work out an arrangement that is equitable to _all_ parties.”

“Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” Fiona asked defensively.

“Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives,” Alexius chided.

Evelyn was beyond pleasantries. “Of course she trusts you Alexius. I'm sure lots of people put their lives in your hands. You have one of those faces.” She could hardly believe the sarcasm that was dripping from her own mouth.

“Yes, the Magisterium tells me that so often,” he retorted with equal gall. “Shall we begin our talks?” He turned with a grin on his face and returned to sitting in the throne, the fireplace blazing behind him. It made for an impressive form of intimidation, if Evelyn cared to be scared of the man. Which she wasn't. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach and _I_ have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

Evelyn stepped boldly forward. “Nothing at all. I'm just going to take the mages and leave.”

“And how do you imagine you'll accomplish such a feat?” Alexius remarked, thinking he still held all of the cards.

“She knows everything, Father,” Felix announced with a sigh.

Alexius turned to his son, his head whipping around with his eyes wide. “Felix, what have you done?”

“We made sure to disarm your trap before we came in. I hope you don't mind,” Evelyn said with a smirk.

“I've yet to see your cleverness, I'm afraid,” Alexius said, steepling his fingers in front of him. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark, a gift you don't even understand, and think you're in control... You're nothing but a mistake.” He spat standing to gain height on them.

Evelyn's stomach flipped. Did Alexius know something about the mark? She clenched her fist over the mark and glared at him. “If I'm a mistake, what exactly was the Breach supposed to accomplish?”

“It was to be a triumphant moment for the Elder One. For this world.” Alexius preached.

“Father, listen to yourself!” Felix begged, approaching his father. “Do you know what you sound like?”

Evelyn felt her muscles relax when she heard Dorian speak up from behind her, indicating that he and Leliana's people had made it through the tunnels. “He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be.”

“Dorian,” Alexius sighed. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from it's own ashes.”

“That's who you serve?” Evelyn asked as Dorian sidled up by her side. Both Bull and Varric had kept back to allow her space and keep eyes on the Venatori circling the room. “The one who killed the Divine? Is he a mage?”

“Soon, he will become a God,” Alexius growled. “He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

“You can't involve my people in this!” Evelyn had almost forgotten Fiona as she concentrated on the danger of Alexius and his men. The Grand Enchanter was furious.

“Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?” Dorian asked, his voice softening to a low hum.

“Stop it, Father! Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach and let's go home,” Felix snapped.

His father whirled on him. “No. It's the only way Felix. He can save you.”

“Save me?” Felix asked, his face showing rage that his father would use him as the excuse to get involved in this.

“There _is_ a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple...”

“I'm going to die. You need to accept that!” Felix growled, telling Evelyn that he had accepted it for himself already.

“Seize them, Venatori!” Alexius shouted. “The Elder One demands this woman's life!”

Evelyn didn't need to turn around to know that the Inquisition troops had left their hiding places. Wet gurgles and sharp sickening crunches indicated that all of the Venatori had either their throats slit or their necks snapped. “Your men are dead, Alexius,” she announced cooly.

“You are a mistake!” he seethed. “You should never have existed.”

A bright amulet appeared in his hand, glowing green like the magic from the Breach. Before Evelyn could react, the amulet began to hover above his palm as he called forth his spell. “No!” Dorian shouted, his staff whipping upwards. His spell slammed into Alexius and the man stumbled as his own spell fired off.

A large blast of magic burst in Evelyn's face. She felt a tugging at her navel that churned her stomach as the world fell out from under her. She didn't have time to scream, even as much as she wanted to, before she fell heavily to the ground with a splash. Choking out the breath of water she'd taken, she pushed to her knees as she heard someone call out. “Blood of the Elder One! Where'd they come from?”

'They'... So she wasn't alone. In spite of the coughing, she forced herself to call on her magic before she could be attacked. She threw up a barrier and heard a sharp clang as a sword bounced off the invisible shield. A hand grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. She sloshed backwards in the calf deep water away from the direction of the voices of her attackers, her arms flailing for balance. “Get a hold of yourself, will you. I could use a hand.” That was Dorian.

She gathered her wits and tried to stifle her cough. Even as she regained her breath, she could still cast. She drew from her mana reserves and found them drained, so she reached for her staff. The familiar weight felt good in her hands. She whipped it up, using it's weight to knock back the swordsman coming for her. In the second that bought her, she felt her way to the trigger that released the blade at the butt of the staff. The silverite blade shot out and she spun, catching the stumbling man off guard, pinning him to the wall through his neck. The second attacker fell to Dorian who used the mace like attachment at the head of his staff to break the man's jaw and then cave in his skull. She bent over, leaning on her staff as she gasped, hacking a few more times to stop the burning in her chest.

Dorian was already kneeling by where they had fallen. “Displacement? Interesting,” he mused. Upon further inspection of her surroundings, they were definitely not in the throne room anymore. The small room they now occupied along with two Venatori corpses floating in the water looked like a dungeon cell. The most disturbing thing she laid her eyes on happened to be large crystals of Red Lyrium growing from the walls. She stepped closer to Dorian and away from the walls. “It's probably not what Alexius intended, the rift must have moved us... to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

“The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall,” she offered, still a bit dazed and nauseated by their trip.

“Let's see,” he said standing to pace slowly, not getting too close to the Lyrium without her even saying anything. There was an odd hum in the air and it reminded her of a song that her mother used to sing to her before she had gone to the Circle when she was little. She found herself humming along and quickly silenced herself to listen to Dorian. Getting away from the Lyrium was likely a very good idea. “If we're still in the castle, it isn't... Oh!” he turned a giddy smile on her as he figured it out. “Of course! It's not simply where, it's _when_! Alexius used the amulet as a focus! It moved us through time!”

Evelyn felt her jaw drop open and her eyes widen as she slowly returned her staff to it's holster. “Did we go forward in time or back? And how far?” she asked, her mind racing.

“Those are excellent questions,” Dorian said with a smile that said, 'thank you for accepting the madness'. “We'll have to find out, won't we?” He sighed, the smile fading. “Let's look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back... If we can.”

“You have a plan to get us back, I hope?” Evelyn asked, trailing him as he moved towards the exit.

“I have some thoughts on that. They're lovely thoughts. Like little jewels,” he offered sarcastically.

Dorian seemed to like the sound of his own voice, but Evelyn really didn't mind. His constant prattling kept the Lyrium song from getting inside her head. They discussed a few plans as they worked their way through the maze of the dungeons. Soon they came to a large open room with a raised draw bridge on the opposite side. A few more guards stood at either exit to the right and left and Evelyn and Dorian easily bested them. “Which way do you suppose?” she asked.

“The way out is probably on the other side of that bridge. We need to figure out how to bring it down...quietly,” he added, his soft hand restraining her as Evelyn raised her arms to use her force magic to break the controls.

“Left it is,” she said with a sigh. They followed the rows of cells down deeper, not finding a control of any kind for the bridge. They were about to turn back when Evelyn heard a soft whimper. She took hold of Dorian's arm to quiet him and he cocked his head to listen. She motioned him to the far end of the room they were in and found a cell full of Red Lyrium crystals and a horrifying sight standing in the back of the cell.

Fiona leaned with her forehead against the wall, her arm cushioning it against the hard stone. She was surrounded from waist down by the glowing red crystals. She slowly turned her head as if it were a chore and gasped. “You're alive... How? I saw you... disappear... into the rift.” She spoke as if every breath and every word was agony.

“Is that Red Lyrium growing from your body? How?” Evelyn asked, hoping she was wrong and it was a trick of the light.

“The longer you're near it... eventually... you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more,” she explained slowly.

“Can you tell us the date? It's very important,” Dorian urged, taking the pragmatic stance as Evelyn stared in horror.

“Harvestmere... 9:42 Dragon,” Fiona whimpered.

“Nine forty- _two_? Then we've missed an entire year!” he exclaimed.

“I must have missed out on a lot during that time,” Evelyn agreed with his shock.

“You must... beware... Alexius... serves the Elder One... More powerful... than the Maker. No one challenges him and lives...” Fiona gasped urgently in warning.

“I've never fought a God before. This should be memorable,” Evelyn sighed, trying to come to terms with all of the information that was being dropped in her lap.

“Our only hope is to find the amulet Alexius used to send us here. If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left... maybe,” Dorian offered, his plan finally coming to fruition.

“Good,” Fiona sighed in relief.

“I said ' _maybe'_ ...” Dorian repeated. “It might also turn us into paste.”

“You must... try,” she pleaded. “Your spymaster. Leliana. She is here. Find her. Quickly before the Elder one learns you're here.”

Dorian took hold of Evelyn's arm again to lead her away from the talking Lyrium farm and she shuddered. Seeing Fiona like that made her hope that Leliana wasn't in a similar predicament. They backtracked to the room with the drawbridge and this time took the door on the right. They hunted not only for controls, but for Leliana in one of the cells. Instead, the first person they found was Bull.

When she excitedly approached his cell and greeted him, he turned and looked at her. One brow rose and he snarled as Dorian handed her a ring of keys he'd found on a hook on the wall beside them. “You're not dead? You're _supposed_ to be dead. There was a burn on the ground and everything.”

“Alexius didn't kill us,” Dorian offered as she unlocked the cell. “His spell sent us through time. This is our future.”

“Well, it's _my_ present and in my past, I definitely saw you both die,” Bull insisted.

“Well, I'm no more dead than you,” Evelyn said, crossing her arms.

Bull threw up his own arms in frustration and growled. “Now 'dead' and 'not dead' are up for debate. That's wonderful.”

“This conversation has taken a turn for the moronic. Just come with us. We're going to fight Alexius,” Dorian sighed, equally as grumpy as Bull.

“Why? You want to see what other tricks he's learned?” Bull asked stepping out of the cell and hunting around the room. Evelyn noticed the strange red glow emanating from his chest for the first time and her heart clenched. Bull was on his way to becoming like Fiona. He cracked open a large chest and grinned as he found his hammer stowed away inside it. Hefting the weapon over his shoulder, he rejoined them as Dorian sneered at him.

“If we find him, we might be able to get back to our own time and stop all this before it happens. Exciting, yes?” Dorian had pitched his voice like he was speaking to a child.

“Alexius isn't the one you need to worry about. It's his 'Elder One',” Bull said, just as Fiona had warned. “He killed the Empress of Orlais, and used the confusion to launch an invasion of the south. The army was all demons. You ever fought a demon army? I don't recommend it.”

“Well.... shit,” Evelyn said, at a loss for words.

“I know, right?” Bull agreed. “Let's move. No time like the present.”

They continued to search for Leliana and a lever for the bridge, but all they found in one of the bottom most cells was Varric. “Andraste's sacred knickers...you're alive?” he said upon seeing her. He had the faint red glow of the lyrium poisoning just as Bull did. “Where were you? How did you escape?” he asked coming towards her as she opened his cell with the keys. She saw him consider hugging her but then he backed off. A loud crash came from her left and she saw Bull cracking open a chest to retrieve Bianca.

“We didn't escape,” Dorian corrected. “Alexius sent us into the future.”

“Everything that happens to you is weird,” Varric said with a chuckle.

“You might be right about that,” she said with a shrug.

“I'm always right. And when I'm not, I lie about it,” he said with a wink. Same old Varric. “So, what are you doing here? Or did you come back just to trade quips with me?”

“We get to Alexius, and I just _might_ be able to send us back to our own time. Simple, really.” Dorian said cheerfully.

“That... may not be as easy as you think,” Varric said hesitantly as Bull handed Bianca to him and he stroked her firing mechanism. “Alexius is just a servant. His 'Elder One' assassinated the Empress and led a demon army in a huge invasion of the south.”

“That's what I told them,” Bull grunted.

“The Elder One rules everything. What's left of it, anyway. Alexius... is really not the one you need to worry about.”

“Assassinations, invasions and demon armies?” Evelyn shook her head. “I'm glad I missed all that.”

“Yeah, you lucked out there.” Varric's amused expression turned sour. “You wanna take on Alexius, I'm in. Let's go.”

Without finding anything to take the drawbridge down, Dorian grudgingly decided to allow Evelyn to use her magic. “I wonder where they're holding Leliana,” Evelyn mused as they climbed back up from the bowels where they'd found Varric.

“There's a lovely upper floor to the dungeons,” Varric informed her. “It's where they do their interrogations.”

Evelyn nodded and they crossed through another door. Suddenly, Dorian grunted. “Maker, if Red Lyrium is a disease, why is it growing out of the walls?”

“I believe it's best not to think about it,” Evelyn said, skirting one of the jutting crystals as they passed by, her skin crawling.

“Ah, a bit of luck!” They crossed the doorway into the drawbridge room and saw the bridge had been lowered to admit more Venatori. Two swordsmen rushed them and Bull and Varric went at them with gusto. Dorian dispelled the glyphs on the ground in their path that had been laid like mines by the mage hiding in the back ranks. Evelyn sent a blizzard of cold air to swirl around the mage as he attempted to glean power from the tome in his hands. The pages whipped about and tore from the spine. He looked up and glared at Evelyn who had her next spell ready. In her palm rested a blazing fireball. She pulled back and threw it like a spear at the mage. He raised his book to block the projectile, then dropped the burning book. His body then seized, going rigid, as a glow of purple surrounded him. He slumped against the wall behind him and thrashed uncontrollably as if he were having a nightmare.

“You're a necromancer!” Evelyn realized as Dorian haunted the man's mind, weakening his magic.

“Well, don't just stare,” he said with a sneer as he held the man.

Evelyn snapped out of it and nodded. Her fingers flashed in the gestures that preceded the winter's grasp. She balled her hand into a fist and the magic poured from her, making icy stalagmites jut from the ground and freeze the thrashing man where he stood. Bull and Varric had handled the swordsmen and Bull took two wide steps toward the mage and swung his hammer, smashing the frozen body to bits. “Feels good to be fighting again,” Varric quipped, not bothering to holster Bianca. He kept her hugged tight to his chest.

“Feels good to be doing _anything,_ ” Bull agreed.

Up the stairs on the other side of the drawbridge, they came across an open area furnished with tables and chairs. They must have killed the skeleton crew because no guards were even sleeping in the quarters when they went hunting for any supplies that might aid them. The path through the upper dungeons led them in a circular pattern that continuously rose upwards. How far below ground had they been? They poked their heads into every room they passed by, finding a room or two occupied by Venatori mages and soldiers torturing and murdering Chantry clerics. Finally as they neared the top, Evelyn hoped, they heard the raised voice, Tevinter in accent, that shouted. “How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the Temple?” There was a pause as Evelyn jogged toward the closed door. “You _will_ break.”

As she pushed open the door, Leliana's voice came, strained. “I will _die_ first.” When Evelyn and the others burst through the door, the lone interrogator spun to face them, the dagger he'd had to Leliana's throat flashing. “Or _you_ will.” Leliana used her strength to lift her legs and wrap them around his neck. He struggled momentarily, but the spymaster's thighs closed around his windpipe. There was a sickening crunch as his neck broke and he slumped to the ground. Leliana sagged in her chains, dangling from the ceiling by her wrists. Evelyn rushed over to her, stepping over the body of the Venatori and grabbing the ring of keys that shone, exposed, on his belt. She supported Leliana as she unlocked the shackles on her wrists. “You're alive...”

Leliana was a shell of her former self. She did not glow with Lyrium poisoning as Bull and Varric did, but her eyes and cheeks were sunken and hollow. The striking woman had been reduced to skin and bones. Her voice was dry and raspy where it had once been the soft and gentle melody of a bard. She momentarily leaned on Evelyn as she regained her footing and then pushed gently away to stand on her own. “You're safe now,” Evelyn soothed as Leliana looked on her with awe.

The redhead shook her head. “Forget 'safe'. If you came back from the dead, you need to do better than 'safe'. You need to _end_ this,” she spat. “Do you have weapons?” Evelyn nodded as Leliana turned away and began rooting through the rows of chests lining the walls of the torture chamber. “Good, the Magister's probably in his chambers.”

“You... aren't curious how we got here?” Dorian asked, eager for any chance to explain what they'd discovered since landing in the future.

“No.” Leliana came up with a bow and quiver full of arrows which she strapped to her back and approached them again.

“Alexius sent us into the future,” Dorian said anyway. “This, his victory, his Elder One... It was never meant to be.”

“I'm so sorry for everything you suffered,” Evelyn said laying a gently restraining hand on Dorian's forearm to stop him talking as Leliana's blazing eyes fell on him in disgust.

“We have to reverse his spell,” Dorian sighed, his excitement dimmed at Evelyn's touch. “If we can get back to our present time, we can prevent this future from ever happening.”

“And mages always wonder why people fear them,” Leliana spat. It was completely out of character for her to say anything derogatory against mages. She had even shared with Evelyn that she wished mages to have their freedom. “No one should have this power.”

“It's dangerous and unpredictable,” Dorian agreed. “Before the Breach, nothing we did...”

“Enough!” Leliana growled. “This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will _never_ exist! I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was _real_.” She spun and headed for the exit.

Evelyn exchanged glances with Dorian before following at a distance. Leliana apparently knew the way. A weight began pressing down on Evelyn as they got closer to the surface. The bard led them to an underground dock carved into the mountain by the lake itself. Towards the rear of the dock, a woman stood over a bleeding man crouched inside a glyph drawn by blood. “The Magister needs more power for his rituals!”

The man pleaded for his life, but Evelyn felt the flare of great energy as the woman drew on his blood to power her spell. Evelyn cringed as the energy snaked over her skin and the man seemingly turned inside out, the demon the mage had summoned clawing it's way to the surface. It was a demon of rage. It's lava-like skin seeped around the mage who had neglected to raise a confinement spell to keep it in check. She screamed as her body melted in the extreme heat of it's presence. Once she was gone, the demon turned it's attention on them. Evelyn pulled her staff and quickly prepared a winter's grasp spell. The demon's pool of lava beneath it absorbed the ichor that the mage had left behind, its own body growing in size. Evelyn tipped her staff in the direction of the demon and unleashed the winter's grasp. The demon slowed it's advance, but it didn't stop. She quickly summoned more mana from her core and mimed a glyph in the air before her. Calling the cool energy of her ice magic, she pressed it through the glyph like water through a strainer. The energy burst through the glyph in dozens of fist sized balls of ice that rocketed into the demon as she threw her arms out to the sides, drawing in more power from the air around her. Finally, the demon froze under the barrage and Bull was able to smash it with his hammer. Evelyn dropped her arms, staring at the bits of the demon scattered around her as they slowly evaporated into a mist. “Alexius couldn't have wanted this,” Dorian mumbled, his tone both horrified and sad.

Leliana did not stop to allow him to mourn. She hurried them along around the docks and up to a wide open courtyard. Evelyn soon realized what the sensation of a great weight pressing on her had been. “The Breach!” she gasped. “It's...”

“Everywhere...” Dorian finished for her as they stared up at the sickly green glow that permeated everything around them. The rear entry of the castle stood before them, the building looking as if it had seen better days. The walls were broken and crumbled. The supercharged air left bits of the broken stone floating as if held up by invisible strings that disappeared into the sky. Evelyn's palm ignited like a blaze as it reacted to the enormity of the Breach. Agony laced her nerves and she bit back a cry.

“It used to be just dwarves who were afraid of the sky. Now, it's just good sense,” Varric grunted bitterly.

An active rift hovered above them in the courtyard and Evelyn summoned her strength to fight through the pain and numbness warring to take over rights to her arm. Nearly as soon as the demons were defeated and the rift sealed, she spotted another only a few meters away in their path to the castle. The rifts had never shown up so close to each other in their time. They needed to succeed and get back to their time. She couldn't fail Cassandra and the others. They needed to end this.

Back inside the castle, the stone walls gave her some sense of protection, the mark calming. She was starting to recognize where Leliana was leading them from what she remembered of the schematics that Cullen had shared with her on the castle's layout. Another rift awaited them in the entry hall, guarded by both demons and Venatori alike. They were working in tangent. With over a dozen enemies, Evelyn was glad she had her Lyrium potions still on her belt. She felt drained and woozy after the mark sealed the rift. The throne room was just ahead if that was indeed where Alexius had hidden himself. She knelt beside the Venatori leader and fished through his robes for a key since the door was likely locked. Instead of a key, she found a small stone carved out of Red Lyrium and coated in an oily film. She was loathe to touch it. “What in Andraste's name is that?!” Dorian exclaimed as she held it up in her palm to get a better look at it. “Hold onto it... I want to look at it later.”

She slipped the stone into a pocket of her vest and stood. “Let's go get Alexius,” she said with a sigh.

Something was different. The door to the throne room was not the one she remembered from before. There were no more Mabari carvings. All that stood out on the door were several swirling gyphs and other arcane carvings that she did not recognize. There was no visible handle. Evelyn ran her fingers over the glyphs, her eyes closed, trying to feel for a clue in the magic that might tell her how to open the door. For her efforts, all she got was a headache from the absolute foulness of the energy that flowed from the door. Her middle finger slipped into a deep groove nestled in the center of the door. She opened her eyes to gaze at the hole and it somehow seemed familiar. She reached into the pocket where she had tucked the stone and her eyes flicked from the stone to the groove. It was so obvious, she could have kicked herself for not seeing it sooner. She pressed the stone into the groove and stepped back. When nothing happened, she frowned. “That should have worked.”

Dorian stepped up beside her. “Look there.” he pointed. “There are more grooves, which means we need find the other stones.”

She sighed. “Alexius probably spread them out among his generals.”

“Which means we're on a Vint hunt through the castle,” Bull said. “Great. Bring it on.”

It took them nearly an hour to locate and obtain the other four stones. When she had pocketed the last one, Evelyn practically ran back to the entry hall. She had a gut wrenching feeling that they were running short on time. She carefully placed the stones in the grooves and watched as they began to resonate. One by one, they lit up and the magic flowed from them to activate the glyphs. The door swung open on it's own and Evelyn and the others carefully entered the throne room.

Standing behind the throne and staring into the fire was Alexius. She thought he was alone until movement in the darkened corner beside the fire drew her eye. Crouched low was a creature that looked as if it had endured the pain of hundreds of broken bones. It shied from the fire even as it rocked toward it for the warmth. No hair grew from it's wrinkled head but patchy hair clung to its face where a beard had once been. Evelyn swallowed as she recognized the vibrant yellow robes. She looked away from the monstrosity as her heart sunk for Dorian. “I was worried I'd have to search the whole castle for you, Alexius,” Evelyn said, setting her attention on the task at hand.

“There's no longer anywhere to run,” the man said. His posture and the tone of his voice belied the defeat he likely felt. “I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn't destroyed you.” he took a deep sigh, still staring into the fire. “My final failure.”

“Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself?” Dorian asked, his own sadness mirroring his former mentor's. She did not think he had noticed the crouched figure yet.

“It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” Alexius said softly.

“I'll admit, I expected a bit more fight out of you,” Evelyn pointed out, her body tensing as she tried to figure out if his behavior was indicative of a trap.

“Alas, I am not the foe you remember,” he said with a sigh. “All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death, there is nothing else. The Elder One comes... For me, for you, for us all.”

Evelyn's blood turned to ice. The Elder One was coming? Before she could question him further, Leliana appeared like smoke behind the figure dressed in yellow and grabbed him by the collar. She pressed a knife to his throat, and he had barely a reaction. Her aggression stirred Alexius though. The man spun to face her, his hand raised in fear, reaching for his son. “Felix!” he cried.

Dorian took a step forward. “That's Felix?! Maker's Breath, Alexius, what have you done?”

“He would have _died_ , Dorian. I _saved_ him,” Alexius spared a glance at them before returning his frightened gaze on Leliana. “Please, don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask.”

“Hand over the amulet, and we let him go,” Evelyn said, not all together certain that the broken Leliana of this time would honor her words.

“Let him go and I swear you'll get what you want,” Alexius pleaded.

“I want the world back,” Leliana growled and drug the knife across the helpless boy's throat. Evelyn looked away, her heart sinking as she realized that with Alexius' cry of rage they were going to have to fight him for the amulet, all while the Elder One drew closer.

Alexius slammed his staff into the ground, a wave of power releasing to knock Leliana back off the dais. Evelyn scrambled to avoid the spell as she drew her own staff. She took a deep breath and began stacking spell after spell inside the long wooden shaft so she could call upon them quickly. She hid herself behind a large pillar to the side of the room, cursing Leliana for mucking up a perfectly good plan. This wasn't Leliana, though. Not really. She craned her neck around the pillar to get a look at the battlefield that had erupted in the great hall. Alexius was avoiding Bull and Varric easily as he used his magic to Fade step from one side of the room to the other. She felt her mark reacting as Alexius stopped to cast another spell. At the top of the stairs that led up to the dais, a rift flung open with the sound of ripping fabric. The warmth of the air from the Fade seeped out into the room followed by a fair amount of demons. Evelyn wasted no time. She stepped out from behind the pillar and targeted one of the shades making it's way toward Dorian. She wrapped her hand in a fist and tugged downwards as if she were grabbing the air and pulling it down. The demon flattened under the weight of her spell and she moved on to another. When the demons stopped coming, she realized that Alexius had used the rift as a distraction to recharge his spells as he hid behind a barrier on the dais. She closed the rift and redirected her spells onto Alexius. The barrier blocked any projectiles she threw at him, so she switched tactics. She was in the middle of visually drawing a glyph beneath his feet when Dorian dispelled the barrier and wiped away the work she had started. He cringed as he realized his mistake, but she shrugged it off and began hurtling spirit bolts at Alexius using both ends of her staff, the centrifical motion allowing her to simultaneously charge a chained lightening spell. As soon as she had focused the spell into her staff, she slammed the butt of it to the ground. Sparks jumped from the ground at her feet and were carried through the earth to another glyph at his feet. From the sky lightning struck him where he stood and he seized. Bull lunged for him, but he recovered surprisingly quickly and Fade stepped down toward the doorway. He pulled open another rift, so he could regroup. Evelyn was on to him, but the demons that poured from the rift did not allow her to focus her attention on hounding him while he attempted to recharge. Again, she closed the rift and refocused on Alexius. Her lightening spell had really taken it out of him. He was leaning on his staff and his barrier wavered. Dorian took a step back and allowed her to complete her glyph this time. When it was drawn, she pulled the earth up under his feet and knocked him down, his barrier falling as he lost concentration. Bull was ready this time. He ran at Alexius and swung his hammer upwards. The massive weapon collided with the Magister's chin, lifting him off the ground as the crunch of breaking bones echoed through the now silent throne room.

All of the sounds of battle died as Alexius' body hit the ground. A crossbow bolt whizzed past Evelyn to embed itself in Alexius' skull for good measure. She pushed her hair behind her ear as it tried to fall in her face. Dorian calmly approached his dead mentor and knelt to search his robes. “He wanted to die, didn't he? All those lies he told himself, the justifications... He lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice. Oh, Alexius...”

Dorian stood, the amulet in his hand and a broken heart in his chest. “This Alexius was too far gone,” Evelyn said, her palm finding it's way to rest comfortingly on Dorian's shoulder. “But the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with.”

“I suppose that's true,” Dorian agreed with a bitter smile. He held up the prize from Alexius' robes. “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous. That's a relief... Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

Dorian headed to stand where they had been when Alexius' original spell had hit them. Leliana approached in a panic. “An hour?! That's impossible! You must go now!”As if punctuating her urgency, the building rumbled, some of the stones of the ceiling shaking loose to crumble around their feet. “The Elder One...”

“You have to hurry. This... is bad,” Varric added. Evelyn watched as he and Bull exchanged determined glances and nodded in agreement. “We'll hold the main door. Once they break through, it's all you, Nightingale.”

“I can't let you kill yourself for me! There must be another way!” Evelyn choked.

“Look at us. We're already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes,” Leliana insisted. Bull and Varric were already half way out the door. “Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows.” The doors closed and Evelyn reluctantly joined Dorian at the top of the stairs. She watched as Leliana breathed deep and took her stance, knocking an arrow and drawing back her bow to point at the door. Evelyn could feel Dorian's magic crackling as he carefully worked the spell to activate the amulet. Outside, bangs and shouts broke the silence. Inside, Leliana began to speak. “Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame...” The door sprung open and Varric's limp body was dragged in by one of the shrieking demons that liked to teleport. The demon tossed him to the ground and Leliana loosed an arrow then quickly drew back again. “Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side...”

Leliana fought with vigor until an arrow found her shoulder. Evelyn's body twitched toward her to help, but Dorian grabbed her arm. “You move, and we all die!” he shouted. She glanced back at him and then back to Leliana who still fought with everything she had. Evelyn's eyes were wild with fear, but she allowed Dorian to pull her back to her spot. He did not let go until he was certain she was not going anywhere. She forced herself to watch as Leliana was overrun. The last thing she saw before the spell took her was Leliana held against a Venatori's chest as a demon reached up to disembowel her.

She was glad to see that they were still in the throne room. She spun to see Alexius standing defiantly by the throne. Alexius alive was a good sign and she sighed in relief, a smile spreading across her face. They were back. “You'll have to do better than that,” Dorian quipped as the magic dissipated between them.

Realization dawned on Alexius and he fell to his knees. Evelyn stomped toward him, her fists clenched. What he had made her witness would haunt her dreams for some time. “Put aside all claim to Redcliffe, and we let you live,” she growled.

Alexius hung his head and sighed. “You won. There is no point extending this charade.” He glanced up at his son and the boy approached him, crouching at his side. “Felix...”

“It's going to be alright, father,” the boy soothed.

“You'll die,” Alexius sobbed.

“Everyone dies,” Felix said, then stood as Inquisition guards surrounded Alexius and led him off.

“Well, I'm glad that's over with!” Dorian said with a smirk, the chipper attitude an obvious mask. Before Evelyn could question him however, the door burst open and dozens of soldiers marched into the room, their shining armor adorned with Ferelden embellishments. They lined themselves up along the pillars, ignoring the Tevinter bodies on the floor. The clanking of their armor was enough to give anyone a headache and Evelyn was relieved when they stopped to stand at attention. “Or not,” Dorian's brow rose in question.

A fair haired man in his early thirties waltzed into the room, strolling along as if he were listening to a tune. He carried himself with a regal air if not an altogether serious one. He was dressed in simple fur lined leathers, but their color perfectly matched his golden hair. He paused to glance around at the room, his eyes drinking in the scene, the corpses that his men had ignored included. His hands clasped behind his back and he spoke, his voice pitched for all to hear. “Grand Enchanter. Imagine how surprised I was to learn you'd given Redcliffe castle away to a Tevinter Magister.”

Fiona scurried up to him, her own hands nervously twisting around each other, her head bowed. “King Alistair!” Evelyn barely managed to clamp her mouth shut instead of blurting her surprise out in a few chosen obscenities.

“Especially since I'm fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan,” he continued, his neck stiff and one brow raised.

“Your Majesty,” Fiona fumbled. “we never intended...”

“I _know_ what you intended,” the King growled, not in anger, but what sounded like disappointment. “I wanted to help you, but you've made it impossible.” he let out a deep sigh and his voice lowered. “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

Fiona gasped. “But... We have hundreds who need protection. Where will we go?”

Evelyn stepped forward, having understood that, in the absence of any leadership, the recruitment of the mages had fallen to her. She cleared her throat and the King's eyes fell on her. She knew the curious look very well, having seen it on Cullen numerous times. He had once been a templar, this King. “I should point out that we did come here for mages to close the Breach.”

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?” Fiona asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you,” Dorian's eyes flicked from Fiona to Evelyn. “The Inquisition _is_ better than that, yes?”

“I've known a lot of mages,” Varric piped up from where he was standing off to the side and out of the way. “They can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who make bad decisions, but still, loyal.”

“It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer,” Fiona said, her tone daring Evelyn to threaten her people.

“We would be honored to have you fight as allies at the Inquisition's side,” Evelyn announced.

Fiona's eyes sparkled as she smiled. “A generous offer, but will the rest of the Inquisition honor it?”

Evelyn fought the urge to bite her lip in uncertainty. “The Breach threatens all of Thedas. We cannot afford to be divided now. We can't fight it without you. Any chance of success requires your full support.”

“I'd take that offer if I were you,” the King said to Fiona. “One way or another, you're leaving my Kingdom.”

Fiona hung her head as if the banishing were a personal attack. “We accept. It would be madness not to. I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.”

 

The King had left in the same flurry of noise that he had arrived in and Evelyn was left standing in the middle of the throne room with only Bull, Dorian and Varric. She had decided that the day had been a victory, although she was not relishing the idea of having to tell the leadership about the deal she had made with the mages. If Cassandra had been with her, she was certain that it likely would have turned out much differently.

Now, she was sitting in their hastily erected camp in the middle of the woods, a pile of balled up parchments scattered around her as she tried to decide how to break the news to Cullen. She knew that Leliana's people had probably sent runners ahead to tell everyone the news, but she felt that he deserved some sort of explanation. She growled and balled up the current draft she was working on and tossed it at the fire. Dorian chose that moment to seat himself dramatically beside her. “So, the Inquisition supports free mages. What's next? Elves running Halamshiral? Cows milking farmers?”

She chuckled in spite of her frustrations. His eyes lingered on the wasted papers and he took her quill from her hands and then the pile of unused paper as well, storing it behind him so they could talk. She stretched out her tired fingers then clasped her hands in her lap, conceding defeat. “Give me time. I'm sure I'll surprise you.”

“I suspect that's untrue... Unless you strip yourself naked and allow the Chantry to flog you into repentance,” he quipped. “Now that _would_ surprise me.” So he thought he had her all figured out, hmm? “I _do_ wonder if you've considered what this support of yours will do... For mages in general, I mean.” He paused to allow his words to sink in. “The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You've given southern mages license to... well, be like mages back home.”

Evelyn grinned. In their time together, she had grown to really appreciate Dorian. He was smart and handsome and quick with his wit. He seemed to see her as an equal which she surmised by his attitude that it wasn't a common occurrence for him to stack anyone quite so high as himself. “If that means they're anything like you, I approve.”

“Ha!” his laughter broke the silence of the night and she saw Bull reach automatically for his hammer before realizing there was no danger and going back to his dinner. “There aren't many mages back home like _me_.”

“I'd believe that,” she agreed, stretching out her legs to get her feet closer to the fire and leaning back against the log behind her to gaze up at the stars in the sky through the foliage of the trees surrounding their little clearing.

“I never fit in,” he said with a flourish. “Bloodstains are so difficult to clean, you see.”

It was common knowledge that many of the mages in Tevinter considered Blood magic an acceptable tool. “So we're doomed to a future of blood magic, then?” she asked. She had been raised in a Circle. It hadn't always been easy, but she had never wanted for anything. Why some mages found it so revolting that they would turn to Blood magic to escape made no sense to her, but then she liked to see herself as a decent person. Even after the Circle was abolished and she was free, she just wanted to live. Doing something so revolting as turning to blood magic had never crossed her mind.

“Not at first, but you'd be a fool not to see where this could lead. Thing is, the Imperium was once just like the south... Templars, proper circles, all that rot... Then it changed. By inches. Not that this is reason to oppress us... Still, my homeland should be a cautionary tale, not a source of inspiration.”

Evelyn thought about his words and hoped she had made the right choice.

 


	7. Self Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Breach is sealed, Haven is attacked and Evelyn must give herself to allow the people to escape.

Each night, she had sat up trying her best to pen a note that didn't sound guilty, but apologized for her decision. Each night she had wound up unable to find the right words. That is why when they arrived back in Haven, she was sheepishly approaching the Chantry, expecting the others to be in the War room. Instead, they were right out in the open, arguing. Nothing else was new and she approached quietly, wishing she could skip this whole conversation.

“It's not a matter for debate,” Cullen snarled. He had yet to look at her, but she knew in his stance that he was aware she was there. “There will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared.”

“If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst.” Josephine said, her scowl a new expression that Evelyn had never seen from her before.

Finally, Cullen's sharp eyes finally flicked to her, burning holes in her flesh. She knew she should have written that letter. She shuffled her feet as he scolded her. “What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open!”

“We're not monsters, we can control ourselves without any outside help,” she retorted, understanding his viewpoint, but disagreeing.

“This is not an issue of self control,” he snarled through gritted teeth. She felt her stomach tying itself in knots as he admonished her. “Even the strongest mages can be overcome by demons in conditions like these.” As he spoke, his tone seemed to lighten ever so slightly. She realized then that he was not angry with her. He was afraid. There was something about abominations that terrified the Commander. She pressed her lips together and her cheeks flushed as she averted her gaze.

“Enough arguing. None of us were there,” Cassandra spat. “We cannot afford to second guess our people.” She turned her face to Evelyn, her expression both disappointed yet sympathetic. Evelyn wondered how she accomplished it. “The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid and that was accomplished.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks... and here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.” Dorian appeared behind Cassandra and leaned cooly on one of the support pillars of the Chantry, crossing his legs. He'd left his cloak and staff behind again. She was also certain he had taken the time to comb his mustache and touch up his eyeliner before presenting himself. A ritual _she_ probably should have worked into her mad dash to the Chantry. She felt disheveled, she likely looked it too.

“Closing the Breach is _all_ that matters,” Cassandra said, sparing him a glance and sighing.

“I got a taste of the consequences if we fail,” Evelyn offered, her gaze solely on Cullen and her voice soft. “Let's make sure we don't.” She added a small smile which made his cheeks flush slightly as he shuffled half a step backwards.

“We will not fail,” Cassandra said with confidence, shattering the moment that Evelyn was sharing with the suddenly nervous Commander.

“We should look into the things you saw in this dark future,” Leliana said softly. When Evelyn glanced at her, the face from the future flashed across her vision, she nearly whimpered and must have reacted slightly. As Leliana continued to speak, Cullen cleared his throat only loudly enough to draw Evelyn's attention. When she glanced at him, his head was cocked in question. She shook her head a fraction so no one else would see. “The assassination of Empress Celene, a demon army...”

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises, chaos for everyone!” Dorian said, his voice dripping with sarcastic humor.

“One battle at a time,” Cullen said, holding up a hand. “It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let's take this to the war room.” His normal carefree smirk had returned as everyone had spoken. “Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.”

It took a moment for it to register that he was addressing her. She sighed. “And I'd hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk...”

Cullen snickered. “What is it they say? 'No rest for the wicked'?”

She shared his amused grin as Josie said, “Meet us there when you're ready.”

“I'll skip the war council,” Dorian said brusquely, pushing himself away from the pillar. “But I _would_ like to see this Breach up close, if you don't mind.”

“Then you're... staying?” Evelyn asked mildly shocked.

“Oh, didn't I mention? The south is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces,” he said with a flourish of his hand.

Evelyn smirked. “There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future of present.”

“Excellent choice,” he said with a grin of his own and a short bow. “But let's not get 'stranded' again anytime soon, yes?”

Cullen's smile had disappeared when he spoke next. “I'll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

 

The war council was long, boring, and stuffy as the leaders organized their people using their little figures on the map. Evelyn was almost glad to be stepping into the freezing chill of the evening air. Other than her explaining how she would need to be situated with the mages in order to draw from their power, Evelyn had felt her presence was absolutely unnecessary. The mages were not due to arrive for another three days, and Evelyn was planning on taking every advantage of the cozy bed in her cabin before they needed to march. She walked past Leliana's tent on her way through the village and lifted her arms toward the sky to stretch out her aching back. “Evelyn,” his voice carried on the wind to her and sent a shudder down her spine that she was unable to hide. He would never accept her, she needed to put this behind her.

She paused and turned her body to see him hurrying to catch her. He jogged up beside her, his warm breath escaping in plumes of fog. “Commander?”

“I've asked you to call me Cullen,” he reminded her as his hands found his sword hilt and they began to walk slowly again.

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I just thought you might be angry with me.”

He took a longer step, planting himself in front of her. “Angry? With you? Why?” he asked, blocking her path and forcing her to a stop again.

“You weren't happy with how I brought in the mages... Do you have a problem with me as well?” she asked fearfully, almost afraid of his answer.

He snorted. “Of course not!” He sighed, a larger puff of air temporarily blocking her view of his face. “I have no intention of endangering your alliance, but I must ensure the safety of those here. That concern extends to the mages. They are putting themselves at risk for the Inquisition. As are you. Any precautions taken are meant to aid you. Nothing more. I hope that you will accept it as such.”

She began walking again, skirting to his side and he fell in step with her. “You know, I came to the Conclave expecting them to decide that the mages would be forced back into the Circles.” She touched her fingers to the necklace she kept with her at all times. “I still have my phylactery...”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “What happened to you at Redcliffe?”

She shuddered again, but this time not in excitement but in disgust. “It was awful. The future...” she couldn't continue. She crossed her arms, hugging herself.

She was shocked to find his hand resting on her shoulder. “It's all right if you don't wish to talk about it. I read your report.” Somehow that report had been easier to write than a simple apology to the man. He gave a short squeeze as they arrived at her cabin and dropped his hand to his side. “Get some rest, Evelyn. You've got a long road ahead of you.”

“I'll do my best,” she said, offering him a coy smile as she opened her door and backed inside.

 

The Breach loomed over her, the air crackling with energy as her mark flared angrily. She was standing in precisely the same spot that she had stood in to close the giant rift where they'd fought the pride demon. She watched numbly as the glow of her palm ebbed and flowed along with the Breach. All along the perimeter of the building where the archers had fought from before, the mages waited, staves in hand. Several troops stood around her along with Cassandra and Solas. This was it. The last time she had attempted this, it had nearly killed her. She'd been unconscious for days. She hadn't been able to force herself to eat breakfast around the swirling of her stomach and now it growled angrily. If she survived, the first thing she was doing was stuffing her face. Cassandra broke her from her reverie with a questioning look. Evelyn nodded and Solas' voice rose above the rushing water sound of the Breach. “Mages! Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!”

Evelyn released her hold on her hand, lifting her arm toward the sky where the Breach seemed to come down to meet her. It licked at her energy, lapping up her mana stores. She in turn reached out to the gathered mages, all offering their mana to her. She fed it to the Breach and the Breach gobbled all that it could. The nerve endings in her hand went numb, pins and needles stabbing every inch of her skin. The sensation spread as her vision blurred. She fought the darkness, and pushed forward. She felt as if she were wading through waist deep tar, but still she pushed. Her arm tried to withdraw, but she gritted her teeth and accepted the price, thrusting her hand as high into the air as she could. Finally something snapped. Evelyn was thrown to the ground but she was able to catch herself with her hands, as numb as her left might be, and remain kneeling. Her breathing came shallow and she fought to bring it under control, as her hair fell into her face, lest she pass out. Had it worked? She couldn't lift her head to look up. Gentle hands fell on her back. “You did it,” Cassandra gasped.

 

Hours later, darkness was upon them, but in spite of the late hour, fires burned all through Haven and the people danced in the streets. Evelyn stood leaning one hand on the leg she had propped on a ledge overlooking Varric's favorite place. As the celebration lifted a cacophony of music and laughter through the village, Evelyn couldn't shake the feeling of dread twisting in her gut. She stared up at the calm cloudy sky where a large scar broke the endless darkness of the stars. She jumped when Cassandra's voice interrupted her thoughts. “Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

When Evelyn glanced over at Cassandra, still dressed in her armor, the woman was practically beaming at her. Evelyn returned the smile and rolled her shoulders. How long had she been standing there? “You know how many were involved,” she said with a sigh. “Luck put me at the center.”

A short chuckle of amusement escaped Cass. “A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less... But you're right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus...”

Almost as if her words had conjured it, Haven's alarm bells began to sound. Evelyn's gut wrenched. Something was amiss. She had known for hours. “Forces approaching! To arms!” she heard Cullen's commanding voice carrying above the bells.

“What the?!” Cassandra drew her sword. “We must get to the gates!”

Evelyn followed on her heels as she ran the short distance to the main gate. It had been closed tight after dusk and Evelyn could hear the sounds of a small force battling on the other side. Cassandra questioned Cullen as a calming whisper flowed over Evelyn's skin from the other side of the gate. “One watch guard reporting,” Cullen explained. “It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josie asked, ready to write a strongly worded letter to whomever had the nerve to attack them.

“None,” Cullen said with a shrug.

“None?” Josie exclaimed.

Small explosions rocked the gates as Evelyn found herself drawn to them. A muffled voice spoke, a nervous shudder under the choked tone. “I can't come in unless you open!” Before Cullen could object, Evelyn ran at the gate and lifted the barrier so she could push it open. Cullen's voice seeped with frustration as he grumbled and followed on her heels. She somehow felt that the voice was safe. A large armored man approached, menacing at her through his helmet. There was a sea of bodies around him that shared his armor. Before he reached her, his chest jerked forward and then he fell to the ground, dead of a stab wound in his back. His killer stood alone in ragged, patchwork clothes the dagger dripping in his hand, a matching one in the other. His face was obscured by the floppiest brim that Evelyn had ever seen on a hat. The same voice that had so politely called for the gate to be opened flowed from the young man. “I'm Cole. I came to warn you. To help.” The daggers disappeared into his belt and he jerked a quick step towards her. “People are coming to hurt you,” he looked momentarily apologetic as his proximity allowed her a view of his face. He was young, likely no older than 20 and his eyes, what she could see of them through the mess of shaggy blonde hair that covered half his face, looked sad. His mouth was wide and expressive, framing teeth a bit too large. “You probably already know.”

“What is this? What's going on?” she asked, her voice giving away the frenzy in which her mind was spinning.

His voice lowered, calming, almost conspiratorial. “The templars come to kill you...”

“Templars?!” Cullen advanced, his sword in hand and the boy jumped back like a startled cat. “Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?!”

The boy, Cole, wrung his hands nervously as he stepped toward Evelyn again. “The Red Templars went to the Elder one. You know him, he knows you. You took his mages.” Cole spun and pointed up the mountain where the bulk of the approaching army could be seen marching towards them.

Evelyn followed his hand, and saw a tall creature standing beside a man on a ledge jutting above the marching Templars. “I know that man, but this Elder One...” Cullen gasped, voicing her shock. Without a better look, she would never be able to identify the creature, even as she squinted.

“He's very angry that you took his mages,” Cole said warily.

“Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” Evelyn squeaked, her heart racing in panic.

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we _must_ control the battle,” his hard expression mixed with encouragement as if he could tell she needed it. “Get out there and hit that force.” He pointed to one of the many trebuchets that lined Haven's outskirts. “Give it everything you can.” Dorian, Varric and Bull had been the first to appear in full gear. Dorian handed her staff to her and she gripped it tightly as Cullen turned to face the gathered soldiers and mages. Cole had seemingly disappeared and Evelyn hoped he would be alright. “Mages! You.. You have sanction to engage them. That is Samson he will not make it easy! Inquisition, with the Herald! For your lives, for all of us!”

With a deep breath, Evelyn started toward the trebuchet. When they got there, Inquisition forces were already loading and aiming it. The woman doing the aiming shouted for them to keep the approaching forces off them as they worked. It was easy enough at first, repelling the Templars with walls of ice and fire that she and Dorian were supplying. Soon, however, new horrors wandered onto the field. From the waist down they were men, dressed in the usual Templar leg armor. Above that, their chest and backs were bloated and their skin as white as the snow on the ground. The massive shards of Red Lyrium that jutted from their flesh had ripped through whatever armor they had once worn. Their heads mostly sat forced at odd angles and off center, looking comically small amidst their misshapen bodies. Evelyn backed away in horror, landing in the center of Bull's massive chest. “Its okay, Boss,” he rumbled, gently moving her out of his path before rushing the monsters. After knocking back a few, he engaged one of the 8' giants that now peppered the templar's ranks. Evelyn watched one of the misshapen templars approaching on his blind side and moved to warn him. Before she could say a word, the templar began to shake and it gripped it's head as if it were in pain. She watched in terror as the shards on it's shoulders and back began to get longer. Without warning, the shaking ceased and the shards spat from their places and directly towards Bull like the quills off a porcupine. Evelyn shouted and sprung into action, throwing a quickly erected barrier up to surround Bull. The shards smacked into her magic and then fell to the ground. The monster raged and she swallowed her fear. They would never win if she was afraid to fight. She stormed towards the snarling templar, spinning a charge into her staff. She stopped a mere three feet from it and slammed her staff into the ground, sending a chain lightning spell into it that arched from it to several more templars before petering out.

She soon heard the trebuchet firing and then the woman's voice called out. “They felt that. We'll reload. You get to the other trebuchet. It isn't firing.”

Evelyn hurried up the small hill to the second trebuchet. It had been overrun, but not before it was aimed and loaded. All they needed to do was fend off the Templars swarming the area and crank the mechanism to get the boulder into place. When the first set of templars was dead, Evelyn rushed up the three stairs that put her beside the controls. She grabbed hold of the crank wheel and began turning it. She strained under the effort, but she was the best one to be doing this. The others protected her from the incoming waves of templars. When it was finally done, she hit the firing release and the large boulder rocketed out of it's place. It soared for the mountain above the army and when it hit, an avalanche rumbled down to knock out a vast majority of the approaching army, snuffing their torches and burying them alive.

Their victory was short lived as a deafening roar echoed through the sky. Evelyn's head shot up and she caught sight of a massive dragon. It's wings were tattered and she wondered how it was even flying. It soared overhead, blotting out the moon before swooping down to breathe a deadly blast of angry red lightning on top of the trebuchet. The siege weapon burst apart, splinters of wood ricocheting in all directions and bits of metal flying through the air. Evelyn was hit first by the shock wave of energy from the magical blast and then by a large chunk of wood that sliced a cut into her upper arm. As she fell to the ground face first, rubble from the trebuchet rained down on top of her and a bit of metal lodged itself between her calf and her knee on her left leg. She cried out and bit her lip, grasping at the wound. She had no potions on her and her healing magic was not cut out for such a deep wound. She left the shard in her leg and crawled to her feet. As the dragon flew off to attack other parts of the village, the area near the trebuchet became eerily quiet. She glanced around and saw the others getting to their feet. She hobbled over to help Dorian and he waved her off, taking a look at her leg. “I'll be fine. We need to get back.”

Dorian eyed her, but allowed her to lead them back to the main gate. Cullen was standing in the gateway and calling everyone to fall back inside. After they'd run through, Evelyn gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, each step shooting jolts of agony to every nerve ending she had, she paused to catch her breath. Cullen and one of the soldiers pushed the gate closed, resetting the large wooden barrier that she had cast aside when Cole had called to her. “Fall back to the Chantry. It's the only building that might hold against... that _beast_.” He scanned Evelyn as he spoke, noting her injuries. “At this point, just make them work for it.”

She nodded at his questioning glare and he jogged off to do what he could. Evelyn could ask no less of herself. She pushed hard as they fought their way to the Chantry. As they went, she insisted they help the people. A templar named Lysette, the merchant, Seggritt trapped in a burning building, Flissa pinned under a rafter in the destroyed tavern, Adan and Minaeve wounded and trying to prevent the fires from reaching the barrels of explosive powder, and Threnn. The Chantry doors swung open as they approached. Everyone in the village that was not already dead was beckoned into the safety of the stone building by Chancellor Roderick. Cole hovered at the man's side, his expression pained. Roderick spoke gallantly, but his voice was strained. “Quickly... the Chantry is your... shelter.” Once they were in, the doors were being closed and Evelyn turned to see Roderick collapsing into Cole's waiting arms.

Blood seeped from a wound in his gut, barely visible mixed with the red of his Chantry robes. “He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He's going to die,” Cole said softly as he led the man to a chair.

“What a charming boy,” Roderick lurched with sarcasm as he sat.

“Herald!” Cullen jogged up to her side, his eyes again flicking to her leg. “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I've seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” Cole said, his voice calm and quiet. In the Fade? Did this boy dream like Solas? He had not shown signs of being a mage, but she had met many mages that preferred to hide their magic rather than be carted off to the Circle.

“I don't care what it looks like!” Cullen snapped. “It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!”

“The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald.” Cole explained.

“If you know why he wants me, just say it,” Evelyn pleaded, her tone not threatening, but soft and encouraging. What was it about Cole?

“I don't. He's too loud. It hurts to hear him... He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him,” Cole's voice still held that deep sadness.

“You don't like...?” Cullen began to argue but then sighed. “Evelyn, there are no tactics to make this survivable... The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

“We're overrun,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven.”

“We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice,” Cullen said forlornly. There was something behind his eyes. A deep sadness as he again took her entire body in with a flick of his eyes. Regret.

As she returned his gaze, trying to figure out what was on his mind besides their impending doom, there was silence, only broken by the moans of the injured and dying and the soft voices of the rest of the Inquisition as they lent help wherever they could. “Yes, that.” Cole whispered. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

Evelyn tore her gaze from Cullen and settled it on Roderick. “There is a path...” Roderick's voice was gravely and he gasped every few words, trying to catch his breath. “You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.” He pushed to his feet, wobbling where he stood. “The people _can_ escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you.”

“I can bury an army, stop _them_ from following, but that thing is flying.” Evelyn shook her head.

“It won't stray from the Elder One,” Cole informed her. “ _He's_ here for you.”

“Leaving _you_ no escape,” Cullen said softly. When she glanced at him, his eyes were widened, his lips slightly parted. He was afraid... for her? His face suddenly hardened and his next words came out harsh as he saw her decision on her face. “Perhaps you will surprise it. Find a way...” Then he turned from her. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!”

Cole lifted Roderick's arm and placed it around his own neck to help him walk. Roderick paused beside Evelyn as she hugged herself. “Herald... If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this... I pray for you.”

She nodded a thanks around her shock as Cole led the man away. Boots on the carpet behind her made her turn. Several soldiers ran towards the doors and Cullen returned to speak to her. “They'll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the treeline.” She moved to leave, unable to bring herself to say any parting words. “If we are to have a chance... If _you_ are to have a chance, let that thing hear you.”

 

The doors to the Chantry were closed behind them. “If it's one thing I know, it's how to get an asshole's attention,” Varric quipped as they moved through the strangely deserted village. There were a few Red templars along their path, but not enough to point out where they were. Evelyn explained that she wanted him, Dorian, and Bull gone as soon as they had the attention of the Elder One. When they came upon the trebuchet, it was already loaded, but she needed to turn it to the mountains. At least they were making noise now. Every time she landed her hands on the mechanism, it seemed like another hoard of templars found them and she needed to let go and help fight. It was both irritating and useful. The time it was taking them to fight was giving the people more time to escape. “Whoa they brought really big backup!” Varric cried as from around the corner came a massive walking shard of Red Lyrium. Had that once been a person? Since the templars had arrived, the nauseating song of the Red Lyrium had been trying to claw it's way into her skull. She'd largely been ignoring it and doing her best to not touch any of the corpses or have any of the stuff splash onto her clothes as some of the templars spat it out from their mouths and other orifices. Now the song was overbearing as the hunk of Lyrium shuffled toward her. It raised it's giant clubbed arm and smashed it down inches from where she had been standing. The roll she executed drove the metal shard further into her leg and she had difficulty getting back to her feet. Dorian threw up a barrier around her as well as a wall of fire to keep the creature at bay while she recovered.

They threw so much magic and so many physical assaults at it that Evelyn was beginning to think it might be invincible. All she could think was, _I'm buying Cullen time. Keep fighting._ What felt like hours could only have been minutes, but she was exhausted and hurting. Finally, the thing came crashing to it's knees and she darted as quickly as her leg would take her back to the trebuchet. She finished aiming it and backed away to wait. The Elder one had to know that thing was dead. He needed to come and investigate. “Move! Now!” she shouted to the others and Bull squeezed her shoulder in encouragement before running off with the others.

As they disappeared toward Haven, Evelyn heard the dragon approaching. She stood in the open, waiting for her death. Red lighting exploded around her, knocking her off her feet. She struggled back up and through the fire caught her first up close glimpse of the Elder One. There was nothing human about him. Long flat shards of Red Lyrium stuck out from his face and jaw, contorting his features The remaining skin was leathery and wrinkled. He was tall. Probably 10'. His body was thin and bony, at least the parts that weren't stretched over or fused with metal and Lyrium. It reminded Evelyn of a tree that would grow around a fence that got in its way. The metal had once been some sort of armor judging from its shape and his shoulders were widened by large feathered pauldrons. He glared at Evelyn, daring her to move. She jerked out of the way as the dragon landed behind her, shaking the ground beneath her feet. Then it nearly deafened her with a roar. It looked much like it's master, ancient and fused with Red Lyrium. “Enough!” The Elder One spoke, it's voice deep and melodic, and a wave of energy burst from it's hands, putting out the small fires that had erupted from the dragon's breath. Evelyn's full attention fell on the creature. “Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

“What are you? Why are you doing this?” Evelyn whimpered.

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are... What I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The _will_ that is Corypheus! You _will_ kneel.” It pointed a long finger at her.

“Why are you here? You haven't even asked for anything!” Evelyn demanded boldly. Her chest was tight with fear and rage.

“I ask for nothing because it is not in your power to give. But that will not stop me.” It's opposite hand rose and for the first time she noticed the golden orb he carried. It sparked with the red lightning as well as a green fog. “I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it, begins now.” Evelyn's hand jerked forward and the mark flared to life. She gripped her forearm with her opposite hand and all other pain she felt melted away like a forgotten dream under the agony of her palm. “It is your fault 'Herald'. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” 'Corypheus' twisted his hand and the agony increased, yanking her arm further forward, forcing her to step towards him. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched'... what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.” Again he gestured and she fell to her knees, blinded by her suffering as he ripped at the magic in her mark. “And you used the anchor to undo my work. The gall!”

She gritted her teeth, her breathing coming fast and choked. “What is this thing meant to do?” she shouted over the roaring inside her head.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” He was before her in a flash. His long bony fingers wrapped around her wrist and he yanked her upwards. She dangled in mid air as he pulled her face close to his. The pain slowly began to ebb as he preached. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire _in person_.” As she regained some of herself, she realized he had wrenched her shoulder when he'd lifted her and one pain was replaced by another. “I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. _Beg_ that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods and _it was empty_.” He reared back and tossed her away from him. Her back slammed into the trebuchet and she heard her staff snap. Harritt was going to be furious. She fought to catch her breath, the force of the impact sucking the air from her lungs. “The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling. So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation, and god, it requires. And you, I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You _must_ die.”

She swallowed, her chest heaving and noticed a sword beside one of the dead Templars. She scrambled on her hands and knees and grabbed it up, standing to face him down. She caught from the corner of her eye, a small light zip up from above the tree line. Her friends had made it! She fixed a defiant sneer to her face and brandished the sword. He was advancing slowly on her but she had done what she set out to do. Now she needed to finish the job and take out any of his army that might follow the Inquisition. She thought a short prayer for her people and said, “You expect me to fight, but that's not why I kept you talking. Enjoy your victory. Here's your prize!” She dropped the sword and kicked out with her injured leg, connecting with the release for the trebuchet.

Corypheus watched the boulder whip from it's place and careen toward the mountain overhead. While he was preoccupied, Evelyn gathered all of her strength and ran, ignoring the shooting pains from her leg. She could hear the mountain coming down behind her and the dragon releasing an enraged roar before she felt the gust of air from it's wings as it took off with Corypheus. She ran until the air pushing against her back from the avalanche was almost overwhelming. She saw a hole in the ground in front of her and took a chance, jumping in. there was parts of a broken structure jutting outwards on her way down. She curled into a ball to try and avoid hitting them, but the hole was too small. She smashed into a few planks of wood and her vision blurred momentarily. Then she hit the ground. Cold snow fell on top of her and her body gave in under the pressure. She blacked out.

 

The first thing she realized was that it was freezing. The next thing she realized was, _if I'm freezing, I'm alive._ She blinked open her eyes, slowly allowing what little light there was to reach her vision. It was pitch black save for a flickering green light that seemed to be coming from her. Her head was pounding, her shoulder ached where it had been wrenched from the socket, and where the metal was embedded in the skin on her leg was on fire. The rest of her body throbbed in protest to her hard landing as she tried to sit up, causing a cry of pain to escape her lips. The green light was coming from the 'anchor' on her hand that seeped with magic. It would have been fine if she could get it to stop, but nothing worked. Her fingers were nearly frozen and when she attempted to flex them, all it caused her was a fresh agony. Her staff had escaped it's holster on her back and it lay shattered in two pieces. She mourned the loss. It had been as exceptional staff. She reached for the head, still unable to bring herself to get to her feet. The crystal reacted slightly to her, a flash of red fire lighting the area. She plucked the crystal from its place and wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the warm stone. With the tiny amount of mana warming her, she took several deep breaths and dragged herself to her feet, fighting the urge to crawl the entire way. Her injured leg was stiff, barely allowing her to bend her knee or place any weight on it at all. Her left arm hung limply at her side.

Taking in her surroundings, she realized she had landed in what looked like an old mining shaft. Cassandra had mentioned that there were several of these facilities beneath Haven. She leaned momentarily against the wall, her presence knocking a sandy cascade of rubble to the ground. Once she caught her breath, she pushed ahead, following the single path ahead of her. Every step with her right leg shot pain up and down her body. Her teeth chattered in spite of the crystal she clutched. An uneasy feeling of being watched crept over her skin as she finally spotted a pinprick of light ahead of her. “Who's there?” she whimpered, glancing around.

Quiet whispers broke the silence of the tunnel as it opened up into a cave entry. The whispers turned into shrieking voices and she felt despair wrap itself around her like a warm blanket. Demons. The approaching creatures hovered in the air as if floating on the swirling blizzard that seemed to surround them. Their bodies were cloaked and hunched, giving them the looks of a disfigured fetus. Their wails tugged all hope from her chest and she sobbed. As they attempted to surround her, she felt the magic that still burned on her palm flare. Her arm shot upwards, pulling a cry of pain as her shoulder wrenched again. The joint at least popped back into the socket as wild magic burst forth, ripping a hole into the air around her. The demons shrieked and clawed at the air as the rift she'd created sucked them physically back into the Fade and then closed itself. She gasped, dragging a lungful of freezing air into her body and then panted around the pain and exertion of what she had just done.

When she could breathe again, she clutched her arm to her side and pushed herself toward the exit. The wind howled angrily outside and when she stepped past the protection of the cave, the cold grabbed at her like a physical force, pushing her off balance. The gusting wind yanked her clothes this way and that and sucked the air from her lungs. It was difficult to breathe, but still, she forced herself to keep going. Everything was white, covered in deep drifts of snow. She stepped off the wooden landing that had been built outside the cave and her legs sunk almost knee deep. Each step took effort to push through the mounds of snow. She silently thanked the Maker that it was so windy that the snow was not packed very tightly. She forded her way toward the treeline, hoping for some sign of the others. Soon, her clothes were soaked through and her teeth would not stop chattering. She had raised her right arm to block the wind from her eyes, but it wasn't much use. The cold surrounded her, infusing her. She could not even feel the warmth of the crystal anymore.

Finally, she spotted what remained of a cart. The wood had been broken apart and one of the wheels was snapped. A short distance away was a hastily built campfire. She diverted to the fire, kneeling beside the pile of sticks and stones, but found no warmth there. The fire was cold. She stood and surveyed the area. Likely, the others had moved northward into the mountains. She prayed to Andraste that she was right. Going the wrong way would be her death. Her teeth still chattering and her skin numb, she continued.

Evelyn trudged for hours, following the treeline for a small amount of protection from the biting wind. She could not feel anything from the waist down and her leg was leaving a light trail of blood in the white snow. The anchor still glowed angrily, but she no longer felt the burning tug of it's magic. She was amazed her teeth hadn't shattered with all of the clacking together they were doing. A few hours ago, hope had driven her further forward when she'd found another cold fire. It meant that she had chosen the right path. Her stomach was clenched tightly with hunger and it made her wonder how long she had been unconscious in the mine shaft after the avalanche. Both fires were cold, indicating that they had been exposed to the elements long enough for the embers to die. She could feel her body fighting against the strain of fording the now hip deep snow. If she had to go much farther, she would certainly die of exposure. The howl of the wind had become a constant companion in her aching head. Her magic produced little but sparks when she tried to call it forth. She nearly fell over when the slope of the ground hitched upwards. She glanced around and spotted another fire huddled beside a large rock. She moved to the fire, expecting to find more cold, but instead she found, “Embers! Recent?” Her heart fluttered. Was she catching up?

The only way forward was up the hill. She took it one step at a time, glad for the numbness in her legs that allowed her to almost effortlessly put weight on her injury. A large cleft in the mountain stood before her and she panted as she thought she heard the sounds of voices carried to her on the wind. The camp. It had to be. A few more steps and the most wonderful sound she had ever heard, reached her ears. “There! It's her!”

She fell to her knees as the owner of the voice rushed toward her. “Thank the Maker!” came another voice.

She was enveloped in warmth and a familiar scent. _Petrichor_.

 


	8. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas leads Evelyn to a magical place and she is handed an exciting new title.

Evelyn's awareness returned in small spurts. Raised voices argued nearby, but she was only catching snippets as her mind fell in and out of wakefulness. Her wounds had been treated, that much was for certain. When she finally was able to drag herself back to the harsh land of reality, she found herself bundled beneath layers of furs and blankets on a cot set up in a lean-to. A fire blazed nearby and she pushed herself to her elbow to glance out at the leaders of the inquisition, huddled around a fire and arguing. No surprise there. “What would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do!” Cullen's sharp tone rose above the others.

“We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!” Cassandra shouted back.

“And who put you in charge?” he snapped angrily. “We need a consensus, or we have nothing!”

“Please, we _must_ use reason!” Josephine pleaded. “Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we're hobbled.”

“That can't come from nowhere,” Cullen scoffed, his words clipping the end of hers as he quickly retorted.

“She didn't say it could!” Leliana scolded him.

“Enough! This is getting us nowhere!” Cassandra's voice was filled with frustration.

“Well we're agreed on that much...” Evelyn tried to block out the rest of the pointless shouting as Cullen continued to speak.

She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily. “Shh, you need rest.” Evelyn glanced at Mother Giselle who was seated beside her cot, calmly sorting healing herbs.

“They've been at it for hours,” Evelyn said sadly, glancing back at the group of arguing friends.

Mother Giselle offered a gentle smile. “They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame.” She sighed as well. “Infighting may threaten us as much as this 'Corypheus'.” How had mother Giselle learned the Elder One's name? Had she been raving in her sleep?

“The only thing yelling gets us is a headache,” Evelyn said, feeling her own headache beginning to return. “Another headache.”

“They know,” Mother Giselle conceded with a small nod. “But our situation... _your_ situation... is complicated. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw out defender stand... and fall. And now we have seen her _return_.” Evelyn sat up, facing Mother Giselle as the wise woman continued to speak. “The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear, and the more our trials seem ordained.” At Evelyn's look of shock, she smiled. “That is hard to accept, no? What 'we' have been called to endure? What 'we', perhaps, must come to believe?”

“I escaped the avalanche,” Evelyn corrected. “Barely, perhaps, but I didn't die.”

“Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the veil. But the people know what they saw. Or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the Heavens are _not_ with us?”

“Mother Giselle, I just don't see how what I believe matters,” Evelyn pushed herself up from the cot, tears burning her eyes. “Lies or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat. We can't match that with hope alone.” She walked to the opening of the lean-to and raised her left arm to lean on the support pole and press her forehead against her forearm. At least her hand wasn't glowing anymore. Then she sighed and dropped the arm, moving outside the tent where the others had temporarily dispersed. She rested her hands on her hips and surveyed the lost leadership. Cassandra poured pointlessly over a map of the area, Josie and Leliana sat huddled together by a fire and Cullen paced in a tight circle mumbling to himself. It was a sad sight and she wished she had some way to help. Suddenly, Mother Giselle's voice rose behind her.

 _Shadows fall and hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come._ The familiar hymn was carried on the wind over the camp. When she reached the second verse, Leliana's siren voice joined the Mother's. The song slowly picked up momentum and as the rest of the camp realized that she was awake, many came to sing, kneeling before her. Evelyn was uncertain what to do with the worshiping masses. She stood in awe, watching as they paid her reverence that she didn't feel she deserved. She did what any loyal friend would have done, any good person. Mother Giselle came to stand briefly beside her. “An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause,” she whispered gently and then moved to flow through the crowd, allowing the people to rise up with lighter hearts.

Evelyn jumped slightly as Solas appeared beside her. “A word?” She followed him a short distance from the camp to an empty cliff that looked out over the mountains. A torch had been placed in the ground and he waved his hand, using his magic to light it, shedding a dim glow on their surroundings. “A wise woman, worth heeding,” he said of Mother Giselle as Evelyn huddled herself near the torch for warmth. She didn't think she would ever be properly warm again. “Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause... or fracture it.” He was silent for a moment as he studied her, as if he was unsure if he wanted to say the next thing on his mind. “The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you. It is Elven.” Then she knew how Mother Giselle had known the Elder One's name. Solas must have done some of his Fade walking to see what had happened. “Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived... nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin.”

Evelyn sighed. “All right. What is it and how do you know about it?”

A small smile twitched over his lips. “They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade. Old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire's magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it.”

Evelyn frowned. “They'll have to set aside blame while freezing is their first concern.”

“We are agreed on that, and I _may_ have a solution.”

 

Solas gave her directions and a location. The directions led them not far to the North in the heart of the Frostbacks. He called the fortress looming in the distance 'Skyhold'. Where he had learned of it, she had no idea, but as she crested a rise in their path, her eyes fell on a massive castle surrounded with thick battlements lined with seven towers. Not even the castle in Redcliffe had been as large as Skyhold. Inside the battlements was like a village itself, so large they could have fit two Havens in there and still had room to expand further. Her mouth fell open at the sheer size of the fortress. The gates were open when they arrived as if it were waiting for them. When Evelyn passed through the four story gates, a warmth enveloped her, welcoming her home. She smiled and paused as more people funneled in. There was no snow on the ground to cover the grass that grew before her. Skyhold had magic. There was no doubt about that. It's presence coiled with her aura, her own magic humming with delight at it's new friend. She felt energized, even after the journey to get there.

She dropped her cloak on a small stoop that led inside one of the main towers beside the gate and began to help with anything she could. They set up a makeshift field infirmary right inside the gates so they didn't have to cart the wounded any further than necessary. Some of them were in dire straights and she caught a glimpse of Cole, moving through the injured.

It took them days to get their people all inside the gates and settled with makeshift camps and fires that would hold them over until more permanent work could be done on the place. In spite of it's magic and outward appearance, Skyhold had fallen into disrepair, many of the walls crumbling with the wear and tear of time. The fortress itself was covered in crawling vines all of the way up to the roof, which was impressive considering the building was probably between ten and fifteen stories tall, and many of it's access points were blocked by debris and rubble. On their fourth day there, Evelyn noticed the leaders all standing in a group near the gate where Cullen had set up his temporary war table. For once, there were smiles on their faces instead of scowls. Cassandra caught her attention and waved her over. Evelyn handed over the crate she had been carrying and approached the woman as the others dispersed. Evelyn watched them go as Cassandra beamed at her. “They arrive daily from every settlement in the region,” she said, indicating the bustle of people who had seemed to begin flocking to Skyhold. “Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.” Cassandra turned and headed for the tall set of stairs that led up to the second level of the courtyard. Evelyn followed her and listened. “If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.” They paused beneath the arch of the other set of stairs overhead that led to the main entry of the castle. “But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.”

“Why should I care why he's after me?” Evelyn asked, the thought if him dangling her like she was a fish on a hook flashing across her memory. “He's a monster. Mad.”

Cassandra cocked her head. “You should care because he sees in you what we all see, and it has nothing to do with the mark on your hand.” Evelyn cupped her marked hand in her other and rubbed a thumb over it. Even after all Corypheus had revealed, it was still a mystery. Cassandra started forward again, heading around toward the next set of stairs. “Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature's rival because of what _you_ did. And we know it. All of us.” They crested the stairs onto the hexagonal landing that overlooked the rest of the courtyard. Below, near the gate and the infirmary, a crowd had gathered. Leliana stood, her palms outstretched and balancing a large ornate sword. “The Inquisition requires a leader. The one who has _already_ been leading it... You.”

Cassandra slowly indicated the sword in Leliana's hands with a gesture and Evelyn balked. The gathered crowd were all staring upwards in her direction, Cullen and Josephine among them, smiles spread across their faces. Her eyes widened. “Perhaps I didn't hear you correctly,” she hissed. “A _mage_ at the head of the Inquisition?”

Cassandra shook her head once with a gentle smile. “Not a mage... you.”

“I happen to _be_ a mage,” Evelyn reminded her, her heart beginning to race.

“I will not pretend no one will object, but times are changing. Perhaps this is what the Maker intended.” Cassandra again held out a hand to offer up the sword. Evelyn's palms were sweating, and her hands shaking as she slowly stepped closer to Leliana. “There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead... That must be yours to decide.”

Evelyn had never been in charge of anything in her life. In spite of having noble blood, being a mage had closed all doors to her. She lifted her right hand and it hovered hesitantly over the dragon shaped hilt. Finally, she swallowed and her fingers wrapped around the gold embellishments. As she took the weight of the sword, the weight of the world fell on her shoulders. Leliana backed up a step to stand beside Cassandra. Evelyn stared at the sword, her thoughts whirling as the sun caught the blade. “With fear running rampant, they need to see a mage standing for what is right...” She took a deep breath. _Magic exists to serve man. Never to rule over them._ “I will defeat Corypheus standing _with_ them, not over them.” She was one of the people, just as she had continuously had to remind everyone who insisted on calling her Herald. At least now, maybe that title would no longer be tossed about.

“Wherever you lead us.” Cassandra stepped up beside her and her voice rose to call down over the crowd. “Have our people been told?”

“They have!” Josephine's voice replied. “And soon, the world!”

“Commander! Will they follow?” Cassandra called again.

Cullen turned and faced the gathering. “Inquisition! Will you follow?” The crowd erupted in a positive cheer, many fists pumping into the air. “Will you fight?!” Another cheer and more fists. “Will we triumph?!” As the crowd reached a fevered pitch, Cullen spun and drew his sword, punctuating his final cries by stabbing it into the air. “Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

She was swept up, the rallying cry resounding across the courtyard lifting her heart. She lifted her own arm, mirroring Cullen's thrust with his sword, the blade in her hands not quite so heavy as it had been when she accepted it. Their eyes met and he offered her a warm smile.

 

Minutes later as a celebration was beginning, Cullen and Josephine joined her and Leliana. Cassandra left her with a pat on the back. They walked as a group to the large entry door at the top of the stairs. Evelyn and Cullen each took a door and pushed them open. They were drawn into a dusty main hall that was much like the other areas of Skyhold. It towered over their heads, their voices echoing when they spoke, bouncing against the barren walls. All of the way at the end of the sea of broken and rotten wood and cold stone walls stood a majestic wall windowed with a beautiful stained glass. The light shining in gave Evelyn hope. “So this is where it begins,” Cullen said, his voice closer than she had realized he was standing.

“It began in the Courtyard,” Leliana said softly. “This is where we turn that promise into action.”

“But what do we do?” Josephine asked, stepping out of the way of a rat that scurried past them. “We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark.” Evelyn looked away from letting her eyes wander the room and they were all watching her, looking to her for guidance.

She cleared her throat. “Some out there must know _something_ about Corypheus.”

“Unless they saw him on the field, most will not believe he even exists,” Cullen said, his voice gentle.

“We do have one advantage,” Leliana pointed out with a grin. “We know what Corypheus intends to do _next_. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated.”

“Imagine the chaos her death would cause. With his army...” Josie sighed.

“An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us,” Cullen shifted his stance.

“Corypheus could conquer the entire South of Thedas, god or no god,” Josephine agreed.

Leliana released a deep sigh. “I'd feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with.”

Their attention was drawn back toward the doors as Varric entered with a mild chuckle. “I know someone who can help with that. Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, and I sent a message to an old friend. She's crossed paths with Corypheus before and may know more about what he's doing. She can help.”

“I'm always looking for new allies,” Evelyn said gratefully, stepping toward Varric to put herself in front of the others. “Introduce me.”

Varric pursed his lips and glanced back outside nervously. “Parading around might cause a fuss. It's better for you to meet privately. On the Battlements.” Cullen's grunt of warning bypassed her. She knew Varric wasn't doing this as anything sinister. “Trust me. It's complicated.” He turned and strolled out as quickly as he had arrived.

“Well, then,” Josie said, breaking the silence and lifting her quill to make some notations on her clipboard. “We stand ready to move on both of these concerns.”

“On _your_ order, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, his tone teasing. He knew exactly how uncomfortable she was with all of this. It made her feel better.

“I know one thing,” Leliana said with a smirk. “If Varric has brought who I _think_ he has, Cassandra is going to kill him.”

 

After dismissing the others with a wave of her hand, Evelyn had fled the hall to get some air. A lot had happened in the last half hour and she needed a moment to adjust. She found herself wandering the grounds. When she reached the lower courtyard, she noticed Cole sitting cross legged on the ground a short distance from Cullen's table and seemingly having a conversation with a bug in the grass. “This _thing_ is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here.”

Vivienne's voice drew her attention away from Cole and she approached her, Cassandra, and Solas as they stood in a circle. Cassandra seemed mildy tense, but she was not sneering, yet. Vivienne's stance sent out her usual air of superiority as she scowled, and Solas was as calm as a sleeping cat. What exactly was happening here? “Wouldn't you say the same of an apostate?” Solas asked cooly, drawing a hardened look from Vivienne.

Cassandra noticed her approach. “Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole was, perhaps, a mage, given his unusual abilities.” This was the first Evelyn was hearing about this. What abilities? The boy had seemed strange, but he was certainly not a threat. She could feel it.

At her confused frown, Solas spoke up. “He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him. These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems Cole is a spirit.”

Solas had explained his knowledge of spirits to her on the day they had gone to pick herbs. He knew there was a difference between the good and the evil. “It is a demon,” Vivienne corrected with a sneer.

“If you prefer,” Solas sighed. “Although the truth is somewhat more complex.”

“Cole warned us about Corypheus at Haven. He saved a lot of lives,” Evelyn pointed out.

“And what will its help cost?” Vivienne asked as if Evelyn were being utterly stupid. “How many lives will this demon later claim?”

“In fact, his nature is not so easily defined,” Solas explained.

“Speak plainly, Solas. What _are_ we dealing with?” Cassandra asked.

“Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous,” he began.

“But you claim Cole looks like a young man. Is it possession?” Cassandra asked, apparently not having met Cole herself.

“No.” Solas said as a matter of fact. “He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects.” He turned a pleading gaze on Evelyn. “Cole is unique, Inquisitor. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so.”

Evelyn agreed wholeheartedly. “I should hear what Cole has to say for himself,” she said gently. She glanced to where she had just seen him and he was absent. “Where is he now?”

“If none of us remember him, he could be anywhere,” Cassandra pointed out.

Solas turned his gaze directly to the infirmary where Cole was walking slowly amongst the patients. Evelyn took her leave and walked over to speak to Cole. Solas had piqued her interest. The boy's shoulders tensed momentarily as she approached. “Haven,” he said with a sigh. “So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape.” He paused and when he resumed speaking, his voice was different, more a whisper. She inched closer to listen. “Choking fear, can't think from the medicine, but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat.” he began to fidget with the frayed ends of his sleeves. “Hot white pain. Everything burns. I can't. I can't, I'm going to... I'm dying... I'm...” he pointed to one of the soldiers lying on a bedroll not far from them. Evelyn watched the man's chest cease to rise and fall. “dead.” Evelyn bit her lip as Cole took a few steps from her.

“You're feeling their pain?” Evelyn asked, recognizing the twisted expression on his face.

“It's louder this close, with so many of them,” he confirmed.

“Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?” she offered.

“Yes,” he answered. “But here is where I can help.” Evelyn felt for Cole. He wanted to do so much good that he was hurting himself. How could Vivienne think he was a demon? He began to walk toward another soldier. “Every breath slower, like lying in a warm bath, sliding away, smell of my daughter's hair when I kiss her goodnight...” The soldier's eyes closed and Cole sighed. “Gone.” His attention was drawn from her again. He glanced around, hunting for whomever he was connecting with. “Cracked brown pain. Dry, scraping... thirsty.” He picked up a water skin and helped the woman lying with a broken leg and a large lump on her forehead. “here.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, almost crying before he stood and stepped away.

“It's all right, she won't remember me,” he said, approaching Evelyn.

“Solas tried to explain what you are, but honestly, I stopped listening after a while. Any chance you could explain it?” She asked, filling herself with humor to cover up the unease she was feeling at watching these people suffer.

“Yes,” he said moving away before he spoke. “I used to think I was a ghost. I didn't know, I made mistakes... but I made friends, too. Then a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything.” There was something so sad about Cole. Evelyn felt a throbbing in her chest that drew her to him. Something they had in common, though she could not quite place it. “I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help.”

He approached him with a soft, gentle tone. “If you're willing, the Inquisition could use your help.”

“Yes. Helping. I help the hurt, the helpless. There's someone...” He wandered away and she followed him. “Hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Someone make it stop hurting, Maker please...” he paused by a dying soldier whose face was twisted in agony, and drew a small knife from his belt. He turned his eyes on her, looking from beneath that ridiculous brim on his hat. “The healers have done all they can. It will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help.”

Evelyn looked from Cole to the soldier and a small smile spread across her face. “You say he won't die for hours yet, but you can't know that for certain.”

“His body is failing.” Cole insisted.

“He could recover, or the healers could find another way to help him,” she kindly reminded him.

“How do you know?” Cole asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I don't. And neither do you. That's part of life,” she offered him another accepting smile.

He looked away from her and spoke to the unconscious soldier. “Try.” Then he returned the knife to it's sheathe and said. “I want to stay.”

She left him to his 'helping' and saw that Cullen had found his way back to the table where he was barking orders to a group of soldiers and scouts that had gathered around him. He fished through papers and asked for reports while she watched the sun glint off his armor. She had seen the look in his eyes back in Haven. The one that made her hope that maybe her attraction might not be as one sided as she thought. Her mind wandered as she stared, thinking back to the quiet evening they had shared in her cabin.

“Very good. I'll need an update on the armory as well,” he said quickly in response to a report. When the scout didn't jump at his orders, he turned a glare on the man and said, “Now.” The man saluted and scurried off. Evelyn approached, noticing the slump to Cullen's shoulders and the tired look she had grown accustomed to on her Commander. She stopped and crossed her arms. He looked away from his papers and gave her a tired smile. His arm reached up and he rubbed his neck and she wished she could be the one to rub the stress from his muscles. She chided herself as he addressed her. “We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an Archdemon... or whatever it was. With some warning, we might have...” He sighed and dropped his hand.

She cocked her hip and smirked at him. “Do you ever sleep?”

He halfway returned her grin. “If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw... and I wouldn't want to. We must be ready.” He leaned over, both palms resting on the surface of the table. 'Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor.”

“How many were lost?” she asked softly.

“Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse. Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” she sighed, the title rolling off her tongue and falling deadpan. “It sounds odd, don't you think?”

“Not at all,” he said seriously as he glanced at her.

“Is that the official response?” she chuckled with a smirk.

His own laughter lifted some of the weight from her chest. “I suppose it is, but it's the truth.” He pushed himself upwards to face her and his hands landed on his sword hilt. “We needed a leader. You have proven yourself.”

That was high praise coming from him. “Thank you, Cullen.” she said. His small crooked smile forced an embarrassing knee jerk response that slipped from her mouth. “Our escape from Haven. It was close. I'm relieved that you... that so many made it out.” She attempted to amend herself even as the words poured out. Her cheeks reddened and she glanced away.

“As am I,” he agreed, his smile turning serious. Feeling like the conversation should end before she said something really damning, she turned to leave. She was stopped by his hand wrapped around her upper arm. She glanced back at him. “You stayed behind. You could have...” His expression was pained. “I will _not_ allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.” As his promise seeped in, he released his hold on her arm, his gloved fingers lingering on the fabric of her sleeve. Her heart was racing in her chest and she swallowed the lump in her throat before fleeing.

 

Over the next few hours, she avoided Cullen like the plague and instead, sought her other companions, making sure they were all okay and settled in. Vivienne told her she looked dreadful, forever sealing the fact that she was not Evelyn's biggest fan, Sera had a freak out over Corypheus and the questions about the Maker that he posed, and she walked the ramparts with Blackwall. While she was up there, she spotted Varric talking amicably with a tall black haired woman in some very impressive armor. That must have been the friend he'd mentioned. Evelyn could feel the magic pouring from the woman as she approached and realized that she was a mage. “Ah! Inquisitor!” Varric said in greeting. The woman spun to face her, casting out with striking blue eyes that reeled her in. Her stance was cool and confident as the light chain mail beneath the cloth of her top jangled softly. Her right shoulder was protected by a deceptively light one sided pauldron that jutted outwards in three spikes and connected to a full arm piece and gauntlet. Her other arm laid bare, save for a strange symbol that looked like it had been carved into her skin. She grinned as if something was amusing her, her short hair falling across her face in sharp points. The staff on her back was simple in its design, but powerful, bearing enchanted runes all up and down it's shaft. “Meet Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall.”

Evelyn was honored as Hawke reached out and took her hand in hers as she admonished Varric. “Though I don't use that title much anymore.” Evelyn could have been carried away on her soft voice as Hawke gave her hand a tight squeeze and a strong shake before releasing it. Varric's book had portrayed Hawke as much less feminine than she appeared in real life. It was shocking to hear her gentle Ferelden accent.

“Hawke, the Inquisitor, Evelyn. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus.” Varric shrugged. “You and I did fight him after all.”

Shock took over her awe at meeting Hawke as the Champion moved to prop a foot up and lean on the ledge overlooking the rest of Skyhold. “You've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard,” Hawke intoned. “I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Evelyn shrugged as she crossed her arms to look out over the fortress as well. “You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari.”

Hawke looked back at her, a smirk pulling her lips wider. “I don't see how that really applies... Or is there a horde of rampaging Qunari I don't know about?”

“There's _a_ Qunari. He almost qualifies as a horde all by himself. Fortunately he's on our side.”

“So, then, what can I tell you?” Hawke asked, her voice wispy.

“Varric said that you fought Corypheus before?” Evelyn asked.

Hawke pushed away from where she was leaning and paced a short distance before speaking again. “Fought and killed. The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used his connection to the Darkspawn to influence them.”

Varric took a swig from a bottle he and Hawke had obviously been sharing and then spoke up. “Corypheus got into their heads. Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other.”

“If the Wardens have disappeared, they could have fallen under his control again,” Hawke mused, her expression turning sour for the first time.

“So Corypheus has the Venatori, the Red Templars, and now possibly the Wardens as well? Wonderful,” Evelyn groaned. Why had she agreed to be Inquisitor again?

“I didn't come this far just to give you _bad_ news,” Hawke said, her grimace quickly being replaced by her smirk once again. “I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud. The last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing.”

“Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks,” Varric sighed. “Did your friend disappear with them?”

“No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood,” Hawke supplied.

“If you didn't know about Corypheus, what were you doing with the Wardens?” Evelyn asked simply out of curiosity.

“The templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of Lyrium. It was red. I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it.”

“Corypheus had templars with him at Haven. They looked like they had been exposed to the Lyrium you described,” Evelyn agreed.

“Hopefully my friend in the Wardens will know more,” Hawke said thoughtfully.

“I'll take any lead I can get at the moment,” Evelyn said with a thankful smile.

“Good. I'll do whatever I can to help. Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I'd killed him before. This time, I'll make sure of it.” Her expression was serious again, verging on hatred.

Evelyn stuck around for a few more minutes before excusing herself. Cullen needed to know about Crestwood so they could get scouts sent ahead. Her hands were trembling as she found her way back to his station. The table had been cleared, save for a note held in place with a rock. Evelyn read it to find that he had relocated to the tallest tower along the battlements that connected to the fortress via a stone bridge. She set the rock back on the note for others to find and climbed the large stone staircase all of the way into the main hall. She picked her way over some debris that had not yet been fully swept up and through a short hall into a solarium that stretched all of the way up without a ceiling. She needed to do more exploring, but right now she had her Commander to talk to. Crossing the solarium and nodding to Solas who was setting out his things on a desk in the middle of the room, she found the exit door and opened it to be back outside. The bridge was about half as wide as the rest of the battlements and she crossed it slowly, taking in the view. A door stood before her, closed. Did she have the right tower? She knocked tentatively and when his voice responded from the other side, she drew in a deep breath and pushed it open.

“Ah, Evelyn.” he closed a small box on his desk in front of him and slipped it into the drawer. “Did you need something?”

“Not necessarily,” she said fidgeting with her own fingers. “I met with Varric's friend.” he raised his brows in question and she grinned sheepishly. “It was the Champion.”

Cullen chuckled. “I should have known. Hawke always had an affinity for being involved in every little situation. Much like her cousin...”

“You knew her well then?” Evelyn asked.

His smirk lit up the room. “She was the most famous apostate in Kirkwall. Every templar in the city turned a blind eye to the fact that she was a mage in spite of her being a huge pain in the ass. I read her name in my reports sometimes three times a day. She just... has that effect on people.”

Evelyn felt a spark of jealousy that she shoved downwards. “So did you leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?” she blurted, fighting the urge to slap her hands over her mouth to attempt to shove the question back down where it had come from.

His eyes flicked up and down her, landing on her face as she attempted to play it cool by intently studying the books lined up on the shelves beside his desk. “No. I fear I made few friends there, and my family's in Ferelden.”

She turned her attention to him, her lips pursed in disbelief. “No one... special caught your interest?”

“Not in Kirkwall,” he alluded, suddenly finding something very interesting on his desk. He cleared his throat while she watched color rise in his cheeks. “So, what did the 'charming' Marian Hawke have to say?” Evelyn explained what Hawke and Varric had said about Corypheus, and told him of the Warden Stroud in Crestwood. He nodded. “I'll have Scout Harding sent out that way in the morning.” When she turned to leave, he called her back. “I almost forgot. A report came in after our conversation earlier. I tried to find you, but you were apparently very busy.”

She crossed her arms and cocked her hips _That's because I was too embarrassed to face you._ “What is it?”

“I've found where the Red Templars came from. Therinfal Redoubt. The knights were fed Red Lyrium until they turned into monsters. Samson took over after their corruption was complete.” He paced to his book shelves, his fists clenched.

“How do you know Samson?” she asked, sensing hostility in the way he spoke the man's name.

“He was a templar in Kirkwall, until he was expelled from the order. I knew he was an addict, but this...” There was a look of pure disgust on his face when he turned to her. “Red Lyrium is nothing like the Lyrium given by the Chantry. It's power comes with a terrible madness.”

She shrugged, trying to bring his smile back. She loved his smile. “Samson's armor was glowing with the stuff. He'll go mad soon enough.”

Her quip hadn't worked. He was still sneering. “He seemed clear-eyed at Haven. Even so, a deluded Commander is no less worrisome. The Red Templars still require Lyrium. If we find their source, we can weaken them _and_ their leader.”

“I like finding the Red Templars' vulnerabilities _before_ fighting them head on,” she agreed.

“We'll need every advantage against what courses through their veins,” he said ominously. “Caravans of Red Lyrium are being smuggled along trade roads. Investigating them could lead to where it's being mined...” His face softened even if he didn't smile. “If you confront them, be wary. Anything connected to Samson will be well guarded.”

“You and he seem to have personal history,” she pointed out.

He sighed deeply. “When I arrived in Kirkwall, Samson and I shared quarters. He seemed a decent man, at first. Knight Commander Meredith later expelled Samson for 'erratic behavior'. He ended up begging on Kirkwall's streets. He committed further crimes, but managed to evade the Order's justice. Now Samson serves Corypheus as his loyal general.”

“Why do you think Samson joined Corypheus?” she wondered.

“He had a chronic Lyrium addiction. He spent every last coin buying it from local smugglers... Perhaps Corypheus flattered his vanity, gave him purpose as well as Lyrium. Perhaps that's all it took.”

She smirked. “You can't deny being a general is an improvement to living on the streets.”

His look was serious in response to her jest. “I'd rather _die_ than kneel to Corypheus. Clearly Samson felt otherwise. I don't understand how he became so powerful. Even with Red Lyrium, Samson's glory days are long behind him.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I'll leave you to your thoughts,” she said finally. “It's getting late.”

Finally he turned a gentle smile on her. “Goodnight, Evelyn.”

 

The next couple of days were much like the first few at Skyhold had been. Evelyn kept busy, helping where she could and checking in on her people. Solas had begun painting the solarium and she admired his work as she passed through on her way to see what was up the stairs from his space. The next floor was a narrow circular balcony lined with book shelves carved into small private nooks each with a window to allow light in to read by. Dorian was standing in the first nook at the top of the stairs where he had dragged a plush wing-back chair over by the window. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books lining the shelf and glanced back when he heard her approach. She realized she hadn't spoken much to him since Haven and he started off on a tangent as usual before she could even say hello. “Brilliant, isn't it? One moment you're trying to restore order in a world gone mad. That should be enough for anyone to handle, yes? Then, out of nowhere, an Archdemon appears and kicks you in the head. 'What? You thought this would be easy?' 'No! I was just hoping you wouldn't crush our village like an anthill.' 'Sorry about that. Archdemons like to crush, you know. Can't be helped'.” He spun to glance at her slack jawed expression and his own expression softened. “Am I speaking too quickly for you?”

She shook her head, realizing that even if she had been listening, she had also been watching his muted gestures. “I was distracted, that's all.”

“Distracted?” he said, a smirk lifting one side of his mouth and rustling his mustache. “By my wit and charm? I have plenty of both.”

“Today, at least,” she retorted with a grin.

“Oh! You wound me,” he said with a chuckle, then jumped back to his original topic. “I always assumed the 'Elder One' behind the Venatori was a Magister, but this... is something else completely. In Tevinter, they say that the Chantry's tales of Magisters starting the Blight are just that... tales. But here we are. One of those very Magisters, a Darkspawn.”

“We only know what Corypheus claims to be,” she suggested.

“True... He might be a convincing liar. Or delusional. Or insane. But how many delusional maniacs are going to have that knowledge? He broke open the Fade... I knew what I was taught couldn't be the whole truth, but I assumed there had to be a kernel of it. Somewhere. But no. It was _us_ all along. _We_ destroyed the world.”

She scoffed. “Last I checked, the Blights hadn't actually destroyed the world.”

“Not for lack of trying,” he snarled, a brief frown wrinkling his brow. “If they were more clever, they'd have unleashed something that would _really_ do the job.” His laughter smoothed the lines created by the frown. “No one will thank me, whatever happens. No one will thank you, either. You know that, yes?”

She crossed her arms. “That attitude must be why they kicked you out of the Imperium.”

“Ha!” the sound echoed around the rounded room. “They didn't kick me out! Well, only because they never got around to it. Eventually, they might have. All I know is this, Corypheus needs to be stopped. Men like him ruined my homeland. I won't stand by and let him ruin the world.” He finally chose a book from the shelf and draped himself in the chair. “Oh, and congratulations on that whole leading-the-Inquisition thing, by the way.”

Evelyn knew when she was dismissed and she continued her exploration. The third and final story in the solarium, Leliana had turned into a rookery for her Ravens. Not finding the spymaster, she followed the stairs back down to Solas' room and found her feet carrying her toward Cullen's tower.

The door was cracked and she considered it an invitation. She pushed it open, knocking at the same time. She found him hovering over that same small box he'd hidden in the drawer when she'd entered previously. He didn't bother to hide it this time and she approached slowly as he sighed. She gave him the time to gather himself that he clearly needed. “As leader of the Inquisition, you...” He stopped and sighed again, drawing in a breath to start over. “Evelyn, there's something I must tell you.”

“You're being especially serious today,” she teased, moving a bit closer to get a look inside the box. The bottom was lined in velvet and indented especially for the items it carried, the top was painted with a likeness of Andraste gripping a sword turned down to her feet. She recognized the tools inside as those that delivered Lyrium.

“I know.” He exhaled a short breath and she wasn't certain if it was an attempt at a laugh that never quite reached fruition, or a sound of exasperation that she was trying to lighten the mood. “Lyrium grants templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer... some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of Lyrium for the templars here, but I... no longer take it.”

“You stopped?” she asked curiously. She had never met a templar who had stopped. She now understood why his scent had been so muted.

“When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now.”

Panic rose in her gut. Had he said some of those cut off had died? “Cullen if this can kill you...”

“It hasn't yet,” he said with a grimace. “After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't...I will not be bound to the Order... or that life... any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it.” he stood up taller, removing his gaze from the box and meeting her eyes. “But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I've asked Cassandra to... watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.”

“Are you in pain?” she asked softly, unable to comprehend having to live like that.

“I can endure it,” he said with a strength behind his words that made her believe him.

She considered him, and wished there were something she could do to ease his suffering. Perhaps simply listening would be enough. “Thank you for telling me. I respect what you're doing.”

“Thank you, Evelyn.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Inquisition's army must always take priority. Should anything happen... I will defer to Cassandra's judgment.”

She had wandered to his tower, looking for some light conversation. Instead she had been rocked. She left the tower, heading over toward the newly opened tavern from the side door instead of back to the solarium. Before reaching the tavern door, she took the right down the stairs to the upper courtyard. She wandered, hugging herself and lost in her jumbled thoughts of Cullen. She happened to glance to her right and she saw Cole sitting on the ledge that over looked the area where the infirmary still functioned. He was rocking back and forth and fidgeting. When she approached with raised brows, she also noticed his right heel was kicking rhythmically against the stone wall. “What are you doing?” she asked softly, moving up to lean beside him.

“Listening,” he said with a small smile. His voice switched to the melodic hum he used when reciting people's thoughts. “Eyes rough, jangling armor hurts my ears, back aching, fingers too clumsy for knots.” A breeze lifted around them and Evelyn closed her eyes as she listened. “Wind cool like aunt Eloise's pond. Lips scalded as I sip, warmth blossoms, first kiss in the barn, what was his name? Tin jangle as the blood spills. Pierre's wrapped body on the wagon to the Chantry. Five more minutes. My fault.”

Quick images flashed before her closed lids and she gasped. When she opened her eyes, they were drawn to a woman below tending to the wounded. “Can you listen to anyone's mind like you did hers?”

“No. They have to need me. Pain, fear, sadness, guilt, anger, hurt. Things I can fix,” he explained.

“I could almost see what had happened to her,” Evelyn said, her palm resting over her rapidly fluttering heart.

“Yes.”

“Is that what it's like for you?” she wondered.

“Yes.” The sound of rushing wind sounded beside her and when she glanced back he had disappeared. She looked around and was not surprised to see he was down below with the woman.

She made her way down to join him, and whatever he had said, the woman was backing up. “I don't... I don't know who you are...” she looked mildly frightened.

“Wait, that didn't work. Let me try again. You'll forget me in a minute.” Evelyn watched the woman glance away from Cole and then when her eyes slipped back to him, she seemed to have no recollection of the last few minutes. Cole smiled and said, “You can't save all of them.”

“What?” She asked.

“Like Pierre getting sick after you snuck out to aunt Eloise's pond. You want it to be your fault so there's a reason and it's not so frightening. But there _is_ no reason. Pierre just got sick. The soldier was never going to live. It wasn't your fault.” he lifted his hand and Evelyn felt a hum of magic. The woman simply looked at them and smiled before walking off. “Better.”

“She doesn't blame herself anymore?” Evelyn asked in awe.

“Not as much. It was bouncing around inside her, closing up into a ball of wrong. Now it's open. She'll get it out.”

“Well done,” she said, praising him for helping.

“Thank you for letting me help her. It's not how a person would do it... but it helped. That's what matters.” Cole's innocence melted her heart. There was so much she could learn from him, but in return she suspected she might teach him quite a bit as well.

Evelyn agreed and then regarded the boy and hugged herself. He waited patiently as she decided whether she could ask him about Cullen. She decided the safer route was to ask him about templars since he had spent time with some of them recently. “I'd like to talk with you about templars.” she said gently.

He smiled softly before he answered. “They're heavy with forgotten songs, like Varric. Some of them are too loud. It's hard to stay near them. Cullen is softer, but demons asked questions that hurt him. Evangeline was kinder. I want to explain, but I... Rhys' mother spoke to spirits but not to him. Then she died for a templar he loved. Words just bounce off the edges.”

“What's your general opinion of templars?”

There was a temporary sneer that crossed his face. “Some like hurting mages. It makes them happy, or less afraid, or... Dreams again, woke up shaking. Stalking the grounds for one who looks like her. Always some rule being broken... But not all templars listen when whispers crawl around inside them. They try to protect people. Like Cullen.” Was he purposefully bringing up Cullen because he could hear her thinking about him, or was it simply his way of giving her a medium to compare to? “The good ones remember that mages _are_ people.”

“Can you tell me more about how the templars feel to you?” she asked.

He screwed up his face as if he were trying to find a way to describe it to her. “They feel older than they look. They've been changed, and their bodies are incomplete now. The Lyrium helps, but their bodies always want to connect to... something older. Bigger than they are. That's why they block magic. They reach for that other thing and magic has no room to come in. Like when I listen to Varric.”

“How are the Red Templars different?”

“The Red Lyrium is different, darker. Daggers under the skin. It eats you inside until you're nothing. They hear a different song. The song behind the door old whispers want opened. They are dead, dark, and done.”

Evelyn shivered at his description, but getting his perspective was fascinating. She smiled. “Can you explain how your mind works?”

“Yes,” he said with his own excited smile. It was like she was his first friend in a very long time.

“Walk me through the way you help someone,” she coached when she realized he was looking for a question.

“I start by listening. I hear hurt, feel it fretting. Some you can solve by giving something. Food, a blanket, sleep. Some are intangible, terrible tangles that catch on a crack. Fixed, festering, and the person makes a pearl of pain. I shake it loose. No pearl, no pain. They can hope, they can heal,” he said happily, as if helping gave him great joy.

“Sometimes you say things that relate to other members of the Inquisition...”

He opened his mouth and his face was both wary, confused and amazed. “They remember me. Their eyes stick, some more. They want me to _be._ Varric is quiet inside. He pulls me more to here. Makes me a person. Calls me 'kid'. A friend.” He chuckled joyously. “Solas, bright and sad, observes and accepts. Spirit self, seeing the soul, Solas, But somehow sorrows.”

“What do you sense when you focus on me?” she asked, almost afraid of his answer.

His smile was still wide, though pity seemed to leak into his eyes. “You're too bright. Like counting birds against the sun. The mark makes you more, but past it... You reach across, mindful, meaning. You pull it through to this side, make it real here. And past _that_ , the weight of all on you. All the hopes you carry, fears you fight. You are theirs. It must be _very_ hard. I hope I help.”

“It must be sad feeling everyone's pain all the time.” she was hugging herself again, as he laid her thoughts bare for her to taste.

“Why?”

“Isn't it?”

“No. I help. I find wounds and heal them. I salve, soothe, save. I see pain and make it better. How could I not be happy?”

She nodded in understanding. “I'm glad you shared with me, Cole.”

“You're welcome.” She noticed the sun dipping lower in the sky and she was suddenly tired. With one last smile, she walked past him to head for the quarters that Josephine had said were hers at the top floor of the main fortress. Before she'd made it a yard, his voice stopped her in her tracks. “Beautiful. You are so beautiful. Soft, but also strong. Laughter sweet like a song. Sweeter when she looks at me. Gut clenches whenever she rides off. Please, please be safe. Maker, bring her back to me. Andraste, how do I _tell_ her?”

She spun around, but Cole was already gone. Her eyes raised upwards toward the battlements. Her breath caught in her chest when she saw him, standing alone, but looking directly at her. When he saw her looking, he waved and she wiggled her fingers in return, mournful that she was not close enough to be able to see the corner of his mouth turn upwards. Had he really thought those things about her or was Cole even talking about Cullen? She realized she had been staring and dropped her hand then turned away to get some rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's thoughts taken from a piece of art I saw on Pinterest  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/40/a1/1d/40a11d95711110ec3c269d8c61af4a1d.jpg


	9. Undead and Avvar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn it, Jim!

Crestwood was only four days ride from Skyhold, and Evelyn was actually glad to be getting out and doing something besides listening to her own thoughts. She would have been even more glad if it hadn't been raining. In spite of the weather, Harding was her usual self. “Good to see you safe, Inquisitor. We've got trouble ahead.”

“If _you're_ on edge, I should alert the entire Inquisition,” Evelyn smirked, crossing her arms.

“Or increase my hazard pay,” the dwarf shrugged. “That's an option.”

“Are things _that_ bad?” Harding turned and beckoned Evelyn to follow. Then she pointed out toward the lake. Burning below the surface there was evidence that a rift had opened somewhere below inside the lake. “Oh,” Evelyn sighed, understanding Harding's concerns.

“Crestwood was the site of a flood ten years ago during the Blight. It's not the only rift in the area, but after it appeared, corpses started walking out of the lake. You'll have to fight through them to get to the cave where Ser Hawke's Grey Warden friend is hiding.”

“More walking corpses...” Evelyn shrugged. “At least they won't be a surprise.”

“I nearly stepped on one in the grass the other night... before it started moaning,” Harding said with a shudder. “Maybe someone in Crestwood could tell you how to get to the rift in the lake. Maker knows they'll want help. Good luck. And please be safe.”

Evelyn took one last look at the lake as she shrugged off Harding's words. 'Please be safe'. Had he thought that when she'd left this time? She led her small group toward the village and thought out loud as she went. “There must be some other way to get to the rift in the lake.”

“Swimming?” Bull suggested, likely seriously.

“It sounds different. The water changes the song,” Cole mused. She had brought him with her both to give him a break from the infirmary and because his presence was strangely calming. She had seen him wielding his blades and he would make an excellent alternate for Varric and his crossbow.

Crestwood's mayor reluctantly informed them that the dam controls that might help them drain the lake had been destroyed by Darkspawn during the blight. When she'd insisted on helping anyway, he said there was a stronghold not far off that bandits had taken over. If she could get through there she could access the dam controls. The stronghold was impressive and Bull pointed out that Crestwood could be of strategic value to the Inquisition. Better them than the bandits. Evelyn sent a raven and Leliana had people swarming the place within days, effectively giving over Caer Bronach to the Inquisition. Once their people were settled, Evelyn took her party out and they found the damn controls. They seemed surprisingly intact. “The mayor said these controls were destroyed. Who repaired them?”

“The mayor. His shame had this shape,” Cole said.

Something more was going on. With the lake drained, they found their way to Old Crestwood and closed a smaller rift along the way. The rift was still below them and they discovered the entrance to some old caves. The path was easy to follow and they found disturbing evidence that there had been people living down there when the flood came.

The rift was huge and Evelyn felt a pressing weight lift after she finally closed it. Back on the surface, the rain had stopped and Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief that was short lived. When they returned to the village the mayor had vanished and had left a confession that he had flooded Old Crestwood to stop the Blight from spreading. Another job for Cullen. Find him and bring him in so she could judge him.

She had been less than pleased when Josephine had announced that they were having an honest to goodness throne brought in and placed in the main hall at Skyhold so she could sit in it and judge their enemies. Her first victim was to be Alexius and she was still mulling over what she was going to do with him when the time came.

Upon leaving the village, they headed east toward the location that Hawke had given them. She was waiting outside and grinned widely when she saw Evelyn. “Glad you could make it. I just got here myself. My contact with the Wardens should be at the back of the cave.”

“He's not the only Warden around here. It's a good thing his friends didn't find him in Crestwood,” Evelyn said, pointing out the other Wardens they'd encountered.

“How much blood is shed by good men following bad orders?” Hawke spat angrily. She turned and led them into the cave. A wooden door fitted into the cave blocked their way and Evelyn pushed it open. When she stepped inside, there were torches all around the place, the flickering flames casting shadows on the walls. The sound of a sword being drawn made her turn and she saw the weapon pointed directly in her face. “It's just us! I brought the Inquisitor!” Hawke intervened before Evelyn met the sharp end of the sword.

“My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor.” He sheathed his sword. He had short hair shorn close to his scalp on the sides and slightly longer in the top. His mustache gave Dorian's a run for it's money both in length and width, wrapping around the top and sides of his mouth but leaving his chin bare. His expression was wary, but showed a willingness to be helpful.

“I'll take all the help I can get. I know the Wardens have troubles of their own,” Evelyn sighed, glad that she was no longer facing the blade. “I wonder though. Might those troubles have anything to do with Corypheus?”

“I fear it is so. When my friend Hawke slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matter to rest. But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power. My investigation uncovered clues, but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling.”

“I recall that being a bad thing,” Hawke said, crossing her arms. “But I _don't_ recall you telling me about all _this_.”

“It was a Grey Warden matter. I was bound by an oath of secrecy,” Stroud said apologetically.

“Is the Calling some sort of Grey Warden ritual?” Evelyn asked, having never heard of it before.

“The Calling tells a Warden that the Blight will soon claim him. Starts with dreams. Then come whispers in his head. The Warden says his farewells and goes to the Deep Roads to meet his death in combat,” Stroud explained.

“And every Grey Warden in Orlais is hearing that right now? They think they're dying?” Hawke exclaimed, taking a step back.

“Yes. Likely because of Corypheus,” Stroud hung his head. “If the Wardens fall, who will stand against the next Blight? It is our greatest fear.”

“And then they do something desperate... which is of course what Corypheus wants.” Hawke sighed in anger, the carefree woman she'd met on the battlements all but disappeared.

“So the Wardens think they're dying and have stopped thinking clearly? That won't go well.” Evelyn's sigh matched Hawke's.

“We are the only ones who can slay Archdemons. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world.” Stroud was pacing now and it made Evelyn none too comfortable. “Warden Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished. When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me. Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach.” he folded a map that he had on his table and handed it to Evelyn. “It is an ancient Tevinter Ritual Tower. Meet me there, and we will find answers.”

 

Evelyn gripped the small map of Crestwood and the surrounding area in shaking hands. She had traveled to the Black Fens hoping to close a rift that been reported in the valley near some ruins. They stood at the top of the hill leading into the valley. Dorian was staring at her with a look that asked, 'Are you serious'? Off in the distance, she could see the rift, a green deformity against the sky, but that was not her main concern. “Sharp hunger, biting. Teeth rip into the beast, blood flows down her throat. Sated, sleepy. Huddle in the sun, basking in the glow as it cascades over her scales. Eggs shift beneath her weight, must protect them. To the death...”

“Thank you Cole,” Evelyn sighed, holding up her hand to stop him before she heard more of the dragon's thoughts than she wanted to.

“Can we kill it, Boss?” Bull asked enthusiastically.

She turned wide eyes on him as she heard Dorian mutter some choice words in Tevene. “I'm not going to pick a fight with a dragon, Bull.”

His shoulders slumped. “I never get to have any fun,” he grumbled, hoisting his hammer further onto his shoulders.

“You _should_ close the rift,” Cole pointed out.

Evelyn shifted nervously, her boots scraping in the gravel on the road. She glanced between the rift and the sleeping dragon. Why did it have to be so close? “You are _not_ considering...” Dorian began, his voice high.

“Cole is right...” she said with a sigh. “I need to close that rift.”

“Kaffas!” Dorian spat. “What a perfect way to ruin our day.”

“AH HA!” Bull shouted in celebration.

“Oh, no. If we're doing this, we're doing it quietly,” Evelyn scolded him. “I'd prefer not to wake the dragon.”

“Yes, I like my flesh _not_ melted, Thank you,” Dorian agreed.

“I like listening to her,” Cole mused, smiling.

Bull sighed. “At least someone is having fun.”

“Come on,” Evelyn said, starting forward down the hill.

The closer they got, the larger and more terrifying the dragon looked. Evelyn kept one eye trained on it as she crept up on the rift, liberating her staff from it's holster. In spite of his earlier enthusiasm, Bull was moving as quietly as she thought possible for the large Qunari. When the demons spotted them, the battle erupted. There was no preventing the sounds of fighting and with each crack of Bull's hammer, every shink of Cole's blades, and every whoosh and smack from her and Dorian's staves, she cringed, her eyes flicking toward the dragon.

So far so good as the first wave of demons fell, but there were always more. Evelyn felt the demons before they manifested, the despair seeping over the battlefield and chilling her. She remembered the whispers from the cave after her showdown against Corypheus. The piercing shriek of the despair demon ripped across the field and Evelyn clapped her hands over her ears. A fireball zipped past her as Dorian tried, too late, to silence the demon. Her head snapped up and she saw the dragon's head lift to assess the danger to her eggs. They battled the demons and there was no hiding themselves now. The dragon let out a fearsome roar before spreading its wings and taking off into the sky. Evelyn threw her hand up at the rift to try and disrupt the energy to deal a bit more damage to the enemies surrounding them and speed up the fight. Her fingers twitched as the anchor connected with the rift. A few of the wraiths that had been hovering nearby fell under the weight of the disruption, but there were still shades to deal with. She twisted around and traced a sigil, slipping the spell into her staff. The lightning storm erupted all around them and she quickly provided barriers to her friends so they didn't take any injuries from a badly placed lightening strike. The storm charged the air around them and drew the dragon's attention more toward them. “It sees us!” she shouted as the dragon altered her course in mid air.

Evelyn had seconds to close the rift, after the last demon fell, before the dragon was on them. She yanked it shut and spun around, her barriers still holding strong as the dragon blasted the ground between them with a much more powerful strike of lightning than she could ever hope to accomplish. It left a burning scar across the grass and the dragon landed to roar noisily. Bull charged it as soon as it touched down and he began slamming it's hind leg with his hammer. The meaty thunks resounded and the dragon lifted her wing to twist her head around and see what was hitting her. Evelyn watched the dragon lift her leg and she called out. “Look out, Bull!”

Cole flitted in to distract the dragon from kicking Bull with it's powerful back leg. He moved faster than her eyes could keep up with, zipping back and forth and riddling the dragon's opposite front leg with seeping red cuts. Evelyn gripped her staff and searched the spells she had stored in it earlier that day. She recalled all of the lightning spells, knowing that to fight lightning, you needed primal earth magic. The unused spells dripped back into her chest and coiled with the rest of her mana, negating the need for a Lyrium potion to restore her reserves. She flicked her fingers and stabbed her staff forward, unleashing a stonefist that rocketed across the field and smashed into the dragon's chest. She knew her petrification spell was not powerful enough to freeze a dragon, so she decided to switch to a more physical attack. She grabbed hold of her force magic and called a fist of the Maker down. Much to her surprise, the spell slammed into the top of the dragon's head and pushed it down into the dirt. The dragon's legs slid out from under it with the force of her spell, opening a window for Bull to jump up on top of it's head and begin smashing it's skull with his hammer.

The dragon lifted her head and began flailing it back and forth in an attempt to dislodge Bull. He held onto her horn while laughing uproariously. Dorian delved into his necromancy and cast a spell of horror on the dragon, dazing her. Bull let go with one arm as her thrashing slowed. He swung his heavy hammer with one arm, continuing to bash into her skull. Cole ceased his flitting and gazed up at the dragon. His voice was scared. “She's dying, Evelyn.” His pained expression was enough to make her feel pity for the majestic creature before her. “It hurts. Blood pools at the back of her head. White hot blinding pain. Can't protect them...”

Evelyn's staff went slack in her hand. The dragon was no threat to her anymore. She watched in pity as Bull took the final blow, his hammer smashing through scales and skull. The dragon let out one final wailing cry, its mangled head rearing back before it collapsed, rolling Bull off and onto the ground. Bull let out a roar of his own, “HA HA! Taarsidath-An Halsaam!”

Evelyn swallowed as Cole appeared at her side. “You stayed safe. He would be proud.”

“Oh, have some respect, you great brute,” Dorian chided as he straightened his robes. “Are you alright, Evelyn?”

She nodded silently, blinking away tears that stung her eyes. She pushed her hair back, her hands shaking. “What'll we do about the eggs, boss?” Bull asked, oblivious to her mild trauma and high on his own adrenaline.

“They'll die without their mother,” Cole informed them sadly.

“Just leave them,” she said, then cleared her throat before her voice cracked. “All of the rifts that were reported in the area are closed. We should head back to Skyhold so we can stock up and head to the Western Approach.”

“What about the Empress? Didn't Josephine mention in her last letter that she had news?” Dorian asked as Evelyn began to stride away from the dead dragon.

“Um... yes. I think you're right, Dorian, thank you.”

She spent the evening in a guilty fog. Killing dragons was not so glamorous as the Nevarrans made it out to be. There were so few left in the world. One more thing to hate the demons for. If the despair demon hadn't woken her, the dragon would probably still be alive and so would her eggs. Evelyn rolled over in her bedroll and discovered a warm cup of tea steaming beside her on top of a small rock. She glanced around and saw no one. Bull snored a few feet away and Dorian was sitting closer to the fire reading a book. She picked up the cup and smiled. Cole. He knew she was upset. “Thank you,” she whispered, sitting up to sip the soothing liquid. It had exactly the right amount of sugar, just how she liked it. The drink helped to set her mind at ease and allowed her to get some rest.

 

They rode back through the gates of Skyhold and Evelyn shook her head to dislodge the flakes of snow that had piled on her hair as they traveled through the mountains. The feeling of warmth that Skyhold brought filled her chest and she breathed in a deep breath before dismounting. Before she could even reach the stairs that would lead her to the keep, her path was blocked by Sera. “Cock and Balls!” Her hands were on her hips and a frown creased her brow.

“Excuse me?” Evelyn asked in shock, chuckling. She walked past Sera, allowing the elf to fall into step with her.

“Cock and Balls... You go running off meet Varric's Champion friend, leaving me behind with these tits, and you get to kill a friggin' dragon,” she ranted.

“It wasn't by choice,” she sighed, following the stairs around.

“That's my whole point, yeah? You get to have all the fun, then sulk in your lady bits, while I get to stay behind and _hear_ all about it. It's shite!” Sera complained.

They passed into the main hall and Evelyn stopped her with a hand. “I promise, Sera, the next time I go to kill a dragon, I'll bring you along.”

“You friggin' better!” Having said her bit, Sera scurried off to do whatever it was that Sera did in her free time.

Evelyn pulled off her gloves and continued through the hall then stopped short when she reached the dais that led to her quarters. Standing brazenly in the middle of the dais was the most elaborate throne that Evelyn had ever seen. It towered over her, the back molded into the shape of the symbol of the Enchanters and coated in gold. The seat was just wide enough for one to sit comfortably while the base extended out two feet on each side. On the extra space sat six snake-like dragons almost reminiscent of the one in Teviner's Heraldry. The bottom two faced the right and left, the top two sat up tall while the middle two reached away from the throne diagonally. “Impressive, is it not?” Josephine asked, joining her. “Fit for a leader. Meant to show influence... and the burden of it. It is where the Inquisition will sit in judgment. Where _you_ will sit in judgment.”

“Do I really need to oversee even more death? I'm nearly at capacity,” Evelyn asked, meaning it as a joke, but the words sounded mildly sad.

“I share your distaste for bloodshed,” Josephine said gently. “But it needn't come to that. You have just returned. I will leave you to it.”

Evelyn bowed out of the conversation gratefully and with one last glance at the throne left through the door to her quarters.

 

After a long bath and a glance over some of the reports that had been piled on her desk, Evelyn went hunting in the kitchens for a snack. She grabbed up an apple and began to explore some more of Skyhold that had been opened up since she'd left. Josephine had left her a note about the gardens and she was eager to get a look at them. She was certain Adan was giddy at being able to grow some of his own herbs. Across the main hall from the solarium she found the door that led outside. The garden was breathtaking. Cherry blossom trees lightly peppered the area and to the far back there was a gazebo. Herbs and flowers scented the air as the sun caressed the ground. As her eyes drank in the beauty, she heard voices. She left the walkway that circled the garden and led to many rooms to different areas of Skyhold. Following the voices, she smiled as she heard Cullen. She was wondering whether she'd see him outside the war room before she had to leave again. “Gloat all you like. I have this one.”

Dorian's smug response made her chuckle to herself as she tried to find her way through the garden. “Are you _sassing_ me, Commander? I didn't know you had it in you.”

“Why do I even...” she spotted them sitting around a small table with a chess board and shifted direction to approach them. Cullen's words were cut off as he caught a glimpse of her. He stood quickly, dropping the piece he was holding and his knees banging awkwardly into the table. “Inquisitor!”

She smiled at him, enjoying his eagerness to greet her. “Leaving, are you? Does this mean I win?” Dorian teased.

As Cullen regained himself and sat back down, glaring at Dorian, she crossed her arms, her apple forgotten in her hand. “Are you two playing nice?” she asked with her own teasing lilt in her voice.

“I'm _always_ nice,” Dorian intoned, his voice husky as he dipped his eyes over Cullen. The Commander didn't seem to notice as he took his turn. “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better.” He slid his piece across the board and Evelyn cringed at the mistake.

“Really?” Cullen asked, smirking. He lifted a final piece and took the game. “Because I just won, and I feel fine.” He sat back in his chair and stretched his arms up over his head, still smirking.

Dorian's eyes flashed over the board and he sighed. “Don't get smug. There'll be no living with you.” He stood, his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. As he passed Evelyn, he squeezed her arm and smiled before leaving her alone with Cullen.

“I should return to my duties as well,” Cullen said, a challenge under his voice. “Unless you would care for a game...” He gestured to the seat across from him that Dorian had just vacated.

“Prepare the board, Commander,” she agreed, eager for some one on one time that was not all business.

As his fingers artfully reset the board, he spoke. “As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won... which was _all_ the time. My brother and I practiced together for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won...” His eyes were far off as he remembered, a sweet smile on his face. “Between serving the templars and the Inquisition, I haven't seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.”

“You have siblings?” she asked, curious about anything that could teach her more about him.

“Two sisters and a brother,” he said with a nod.

“Where are they now?” She took her first move. He didn't know that she had a similar story about the game they were playing in her family. She had not overcome Maxwell by practicing though, she had learned to cheat... Very well.

“They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write them as often as I should.” She indicated the board and he glanced away from her eyes. “Ah, my turn.”

He studied the board before picking up his piece and plunking it down. “You're about to relive those childhood defeats. This game is mine,” she teased as she carefully chose her piece.

The game took them hours to play. She had stopped paying attention somewhere near the second hour as she began to lose herself in his company. He glanced up at her suddenly and smiled brightly. “This may be the longest we've gone without discussing the Inquisition... or related matters.” he fiddled with the piece in his hand. “Honestly, I appreciate the distraction.” he set the piece down, his eyes falling back to the board.

“We should spend more time together,” she suggested, trying not to sound too pushy. She still was uncertain how he felt about her. They had been alone for hours and he still hadn't made a move, or even said anything remotely suggestive.

His eyes flashed back up to her, darting over her expression. “I would like that,” he agreed.

Her heart fluttered. “Me, too.” she realized it was her turn and without thought, simply grabbed a piece and moved it.

“You said that,” he whispered with a gentle grin. He watched her for a brief moment and then cleared his throat. “We should... finish our game. Right. My turn?” A frustrated growl nearly left her throat. This dance was infuriating. She shrugged it off. Simply trying to enjoy the time she had with him. After a few more moves, he shifted a piece and sat back in is chair “Well, I believe this game is mine.”

“Wait, what?” she scanned the board, wondering where she had gone wrong. After she'd learned to cheat, no one had been able to beat her.

He chuckled and leaned forward a bit, his tone light and teasing. “Dorian cheats at this, too.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it tight and pursed her lips. She had been caught. No reason trying to lie, too. Her expression only made him chuckle harder.

 

She tossed and turned that whole night, replaying their hours over and over again, searching for any hint that he might have been flirting with her. Was it all in her head? He was so frustratingly polite. When the sun came up, she quickly dressed and began to go about her day. She started with the paperwork on her desk, signing reports and consenting to missions that needed handled. She had her eyes buried in the heels of her hands by mid day, rubbing the exhaustion from them. When she dropped her arms heavily on the desk and sighed, she was unsurprised to see the mug of tea that had been left for her. Cole certainly had impeccable timing.

Once she finished off the tea, she decided to take a break from paperwork and ease her own mind. She needed to speak to Cullen. She needed to know. When she knocked on his door, he invited her in and she was greeted with a smile. “Hello, Evelyn. Is there something you need?”

She ran fingers through her hair. “I thought we could talk... alone...” she bit her lip.

“Alone?” he asked, mild shock in his voice. “I.. I mean, of course.”

He led her out the door and they walked in awkward silence over the battlements toward where she had met with Hawke. Every few steps, he would reach up and rub the back of his neck. Finally, he mumbled something and she had been so wrapped up in thinking about what she was going to say to him that she missed it.”What?” she blurted, stopping and her hands starting to twist around each other.

He attempted to repeat his comment but then changed his mind. With a sigh, he said, “There was something you wished to discuss?”

She steeled herself, the entire speech worked out in her head, but when she opened her mouth, completely different words than the one's she'd settled on spilled out. “Cullen, I care for you and...” she caught herself and her cheeks flushed. She averted her gaze from his and sighed deeply.

“What's wrong?” he asked, suddenly very interested in what she had to say.

She swallowed her racing heart and pushed forward. “You left the templars, but do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything more?”

He fumbled with his own words as she fidgeted. “I could. I.. I mean, I do... think of you.” He sighed and moved away from her to again nervously rub his neck. “And what I might say in this sort of situation.”

“What's stopping you?” she asked, trying to understand as she followed him to where he now stood and leaned her rear against the ledge, studying him.

“You're the Inquisitor. We're at war. And you... I didn't think it was possible.” He had moved slowly towards her as he spoke, his amber eyes less than a foot from her.

“And yet, I'm still here,” she gasped, unable to catch her breath.

“So you are...” He stepped right up before her, his hands snaking around her to rest on the stone of the ledge at her hips. “It seems too much to ask... But I want to...”

He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, the scent she had become so accustomed to filling her lungs. His lips barely brushed against hers before being ripped away as the door beside them clattered open. His head leaned forward as he heard his title spoken. “Commander.” He pushed quickly away and turned on the scout that was approaching with his nose buried in the papers he was sifting through. “You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report.”

Evelyn turned her face away, her cheeks burning at having been caught in such a compromising situation. “What?” Cullen snapped, his warmth leaving her as he bore down on the man.

“Sister Leliana's report...” the scout said slowly. “You wanted it delivered 'without delay'?” Evelyn spared a glance at them as a moment of heated silence fell over the battlements. The scout was looking nervously from Cullen to her and then he slowly began to back away. “Or... to your office... right...”

The door slammed closed and they both shared a sigh. She glanced at him as he looked back at her. “If you need to...” Her disappointed suggestion was silenced by his lips on hers. His hands on her cheeks, pulled her urgently to him.

She fell into him, her surprised gasp turning to a moan of pleasure as her hands reached out to grip his arms just above the elbow. He tasted like the morning dew as his tongue slipped in to mingle with hers. It was over too quickly and she whimpered as he pulled away. “I'm sorry...” he sighed, his breath warming her cheek as his hands slid down, lightly caressing her skin. “That was... um... really nice.” His body was still pressed against hers, effectively trapping her between him and the ledge.

She grinned softly, her own hand reaching up to adoringly touch his cheek. “I believe that was a kiss. But I can't be sure. It's all a blur.”

His throaty chuckle tugged at her, deep down. “Yes, well...” Again, his lips were on hers, this time much more gently. His urgent hands moved down to her hips where they rested lightly. For her, this had been so long in coming, that she wished it would never end.

It nearly didn't. They were so wrapped up in each other that the bell signaling evening guard rotation was the first thing she heard. “It's so late,” she sighed, giggling as he leaned his forehead against hers.

He joined her in sighing. “I really need to get back. If my paperwork gets any deeper, I fear a swift gust might bury me alive.”

She chuckled. “We can't have that.” She touched his chest, her nails clicking on the metal of his Cuirass. “I've actually got a ton of things to do myself.”

“We'll talk later,” he promised, giving her one last peck on her lips before leaving her more than a bit flustered.

She gathered herself and straightened her clothing before taking a deep breath and heading off to her duties. She decided to make the rounds to speak with some of her people, really not in any place to be reading over paperwork alone in her quarters.

Her first stop was the tavern, 'Herald's Rest' as it had been deemed, to pay a visit to Sera. She entered from the upper level, the noise of the tavern below muted. As she walked toward the staircase to head down where Sera had her own room, she spotted Cole, leaning quietly on the rail, huddled in the shadows. She graced him with a wave and his smile beamed at her. Before she could head down the stairs, he spoke. “Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him.” She didn't have a chance to answer as he disappeared. Her heart fluttered and her own smile was hard to contain.

Evelyn had not yet seen what Sera had done with her room, but when she laid eyes on the adornments, she had to say she was impressed. The tiny room was lined top to bottom with windows on the outer wall. The rightmost window was thrown open to allow a light breeze to flutter in, rippling the inquisition tapestry that she had managed to get her hands on and the blue curtains that she had tied in a knot midway down. The windows were lined all around with a cushiony sofa that was custom fitted to the space and padded even more so with mismatched pillows in random colors. Shoved to the left of the door was a tall curio cabinet that she had already filled with tons of knick-knacks ranging from wooden Halla statues to a large relief of Andraste that sat on the top. Between the couch and the cabinet, she had a pile of little treasures and paintings and baskets full of Maker-knew-what. The floor was three carpets deep, the top most one being a wolf skin rug which supported a short coffee table. Evelyn glanced around, her eyes trying to make sense of everything at once. Sera snorted at her, breaking her concentration. “You've been up to something. Your face is all pink. You're pinky inky,” she giggled uproariously at her rhyme and the nickname she had apparently given Evelyn as Evelyn's face darkened even more.

“I wasn't up to anything,” Evelyn denied. “It's just... hot.”

“Or _he_ is!” Sera mocked. “Anyway, never mind. I've got an Inquisitor favor to ask. Just a little thing really. A little march around for some of your people. It's nothing for you, right?”

Sera flopped down in her couch, sinking into her pillows. “All right, let's hear what you've got,” Evelyn said, sitting down near the open window.

“Jump right in, huh? I like that!” A giddy smile made Sera's eyes sparkle. “It's a Red Jenny thing. I got a tip that some noble stiffs are arguing over Verchiel. Land swap. They're getting little people beat up. So I need you to go to your big table and send some people to walk through town.”

“Just walk through?” Evelyn asked, her brow raised.

“Just walk through,” Sera confirmed. “Easy!”

“All right, Sera. I'll have someone look into it,” she agreed as Sera picked up the lute that was propped against the wall and plucked the strings that were obnoxiously out of tune.

“It's fun, right? Being important without doing a thing... Well, not much of a thing. Not everything has to be torn skies and ancient arseholes. Every little thing makes a difference somewhere.”

Evelyn agreed. Sera's request wasn't a big deal at all. They chatted a few more minutes before Sera's room began to give her a headache. She excused herself and found her way down to the tavern. Bull was sitting at the bar, his stool groaning under his weight. She walked over and joined him. “Inquisitor! Come have a drink!” She agreed with a single nod and he slid a mug to her and poured from his own bottle. His smirk said she was in for a treat as she lifted the mug to her nose to sniff the contents. The smell was overpowering. “To killing a high dragon like warriors of legend!” Bull knocked back his own drink and she shrugged and took a gulp. The liquid hit her throat like a swarm of bees stinging her tonsils. She choked and sputtered as he laughed and patted her back. “I know, right! Put some chest on your chest!” When her throat calmed, and she could breathe, he continued with a reverent sigh. “That little gurgle right before it spat lightning? And that roar... What I wouldn't give to roar like that. The way the ground shook when it landed. The smell of the fires burning... Taarsidath-An Halsaam...” he paused and stared into his mug. “You know, Qunari hold dragons sacred? Well, as much as we hold anything sacred.” He chuckled and poured them both another drink. “Here, your turn.”

“That thing you just said. You shouted it during the fight, too. What does it mean?” she asked trying to put off taking another sip of the burning lava in her mug.

“Oh, Taarsidath-An Halsaam? Closest translation would be, 'I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect',” he said with a wink.

She smirked. “You shouted _that_ while it was breathing lightning at us?” Her head was already spinning after just the one drink. What the hell was she drinking?

“I know, right?” He grunted with lust filled excitement and her cheeks felt flushed again. Whether it was embarrassment or from the drink she wasn't certain. She lifted the mug and took another swig, throwing caution to the wind. The fire that had poured down her throat the last time was lessened, but still she coughed, the tingling tickling her throat. “Yeah,” he agreed, patting her again. “The second cup's easier. Most of the nerves in your throat are dead after the first one.” She leaned her elbow on the bar, and used her palm to prop up her suddenly too heavy head. “Ataashi. 'The Glorious Ones'. That's our word for them. Ataaaasheeeeee.”

“Why do you think the Qunari think of dragons that way?” she asked, her lids heavy.

“Well, you know how we have horns? We kind of look more...” He paused, his face twisting as he hunted for the right word. “dragony... than most people. Maybe it's that. But a few of the Ben Hassrath have this crazy old theory. See, the Tamassrans control who we mate with. They breed us for jobs like you'd breed dogs or horses. What if they mated in some dragon a long time ago? Maybe drinking the blood, maybe magic. I don't know. But something in that dragon we killed... spoke to me.”

She snorted. “When you put it like that, I'm worried I killed one of your gods or something.” Her words were coming out slurred and she frowned at her own voice.

“Nah,” he waved his hand dismissively with a grin. “One of Tevinter's gods, maybe. They worshiped dragons, right? Kill the shit out of them all you like... Dragons are the embodiment of raw power, but it's all uncontrolled, savage. So they need to be destroyed. Taming the wild, order out of chaos. Have another drink.” He poured another swallow into her mug and her slow hands gripped it up. She only coughed twice, but the whole tavern was lying on it's side. When had that happened? He laughed as she nearly tipped off her stool. “Nice! To dragons!” he took his own swig and even he half coughed and half laughed.

“To whatever this is, and the hangover it's going to give me tomorrow!” she slurred, making him laugh again.

“Anaan!”

 

Evelyn dragged herself out of bed late the next morning, still in her clothes and wondering how she had gotten there. Her mouth was dry and her head throbbed like she'd suffered a blow. She remembered little after she had sat down next to Bull, but their conversation had made her feel much better about having killed the dragon in Crestwood. Then she remembered everything else that had happened that day and her heart gave a little flutter as she smiled, remembering the sweet taste of Cullen's lips. She sat up and immediately regretted it. Her stomach churned and she drug herself over to her desk. There was a mug sitting near the edge with a note beneath it. She recognized Josephine's swirling script as she picked up the mug and sniffed the contents. It smelled wonderful.

_Evelyn, I witnessed the state in which the Iron Bull escorted you to your quarters last night and I thought you might need a bit of assistance in rousing. I've had some coffee imported from Antiva for my own private stores, but you are likely in more need of it than myself on this occasion. If you find the flavor bitter, I suggest a dab of cream, as sugar will only make it worse. Josie_

The drink was indeed bitter, but as soon as she swallowed it, her head felt a little less over-sized. She made her way down stairs to thank Josie in person, nursing the mug. She left her quarters, passing by the gaudy throne and trying to ignore it. She knew putting off sentencing prisoners was no way to run the Inquisition, but it made her nervous to be the one holding that power over people's lives. She made her way to Josie's office outside the war room and found the Ambassador seated at her desk, reading over reports. “Good morning, Inquisitor,” she said glancing up as Evelyn approached to dazzle her with her bright smile. “I trust you are well.”

“Yes, Josie, thank you,” she held up the mug to indicate that she was grateful.

“Good, because if you've a moment I have something I'd like to address,” she said rustling through her carefully sorted piles of parchment.

“I'm about as sharp as I'm going to get today. Fire away,” she sipped more of the bitter coffee and wrinkled her nose.

“I told you to add cream to that,” Josie scolded with a teasing grin. Evelyn shrugged and then Josie continued. “I've made some inquiries into the Imperial Court. The sooner we deal with the threat to the Empress, the better.” Evelyn took the parchment that Josie handed her and scanned it's contents. “The political situation in the Empire is dangerously unstable. It will complicate matters.”

The door that led to the hall outside the war room opened and Cullen stepped in, apparently having heard what they had been talking about. With a coy smile at her that brought heat to her cheeks, he said, “Everything in the Empire complicates matters. It's the Orlesian national pastime.”

Leliana joined them from the great hall with papers in her hands that she was likely delivering to the war room. “Turn your nose up at the Grand Game if you like, Commander, but we play for the highest stakes, and to the death.”

“The court's disapproval can be as great a threat as the Red Templars. We must be vigilant, to avert disaster,” Josie added.

Evelyn nodded, understanding the Game all too well. “Exactly what do you mean? How is it more dangerous than usual?” The notes she was reading kept blurring together and she set the paper down to take another sip of coffee.

“The Empress is in the middle of a civil war. Her cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard, seeks to take her throne by force. Leliana reports that a group of elves has been sabotaging both armies, drawing out the hostilities... Orlais holds Tevinter at bay. All of Thedas could be lost if the Empire falls to Corypheus,” Josephine explained. “Celene is holding peace talks under the auspices of a Grand Masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there. It's the perfect place for an assassin to hide.” She leaned forward, emphasizing the urgency.

“A Grand Masquerade? I need to go shopping,” Evelyn quipped, glancing in her mug and pouting as she noticed it was empty.

Cullen's soft snort made her smile at her own joke as she set aside the mug on a nearby end table by the fire. Josephine shook her head. “We don't have enough sway with the court to arrange an invitation. Perhaps a few more alliances...”

“Or soldiers,” Cullen suggested, clasping his hands behind his back.

Josephine scoffed. “We need a greater presence in Orlais. And soon.”

Evelyn noted their opinions and sighed. The rest of her morning was spent in the war room, sorting out which of the missives and letters they'd received in her time away were the most important and which ones stood to gain them the most influence. She was eager to be out of the dark room. When Josephine hugged her clipboard to her chest and smiled and Leliana rounded the table to head for the door, Evelyn almost did a victory dance. She had maintained as much composure as she could each time Cullen's eyes had fallen on her and he had slapped her with one of his adorable crooked smiles when the others weren't looking. “Would you care for some lunch, _Inquisitor_?” he said pointedly as Josephine's back disappeared through the doors.

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food and she realized she had skipped breakfast. “That sounds wonderful,” she said with a smile.

He rounded the table to join her and they walked out together. On the other side of the door, the hallway was deserted. Cullen paused, his hand wrapping around her upper arm. “Just one thing first,” he smirked.

She allowed him to pull her against him, her arms finding their way up to wrap around his neck. He leaned in and planted a light kiss on her mouth, his palms flat against her back as he cradled her close to his body. “Mmm, better than a sandwich any day,” she purred as they pulled from each other.

He chuckled and stepped away so they could walk the hall at a respectable distance apart and not be obvious in their affections. She was certain that the entirety of Skyhold knew already, but there was no reason to rub it in everyone's noses. As they made their way toward the tavern, the warm sun of the day felt glorious on her skin. She realized that with all of the traveling and camping that she had been doing, she had become an outdoor person. She never saw herself as such while growing up in the Circle, though she had little opportunity to be one either. They strolled casually through the grass and she glanced around, noting all of the looks they were getting as well as the whispers being exchanged. He seemed to be paying little heed to any of it. “So, the Commander if the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste,” she said with a grin, turning her eyes on him and enjoying the way the sun reflected off his golden hair. “That will have people talking.”

He returned her attention and let out a soft sigh. “You wouldn't believe how quickly gossip spreads through the barracks.”

“Does it bother you?” she asked, gauging just how important it was to him to keep their relationship hidden.

“I would rather my... our... private affairs remain that way,” he added a contented smile to his next words. “But if there were nothing here for people to talk about, I would regret it more.”

She smirked. “When you kissed me on the battlements, how long had you wanted to do that?”

His laugh was crisp and the wind took it and carried it across the courtyard, drawing more glances their way. “Longer than I should admit.”

“You don't have much patience for nobility. I'm glad my title didn't scare you off.” In spite of being the Inquisitor and a mage, she still belonged to House Trevelyan no matter how much they hated to admit it.

He frowned. “I hadn't considered... I have no title outside the Inquisition. I hope that doesn't... I mean, _does_ it... bother you?”

She snorted. “No. If you care for me, that's all that matters. I wasn't trying to put you on the spot.”

He grinned and rubbed his neck “I'm not very good at this, am I? If I seem unsure, it's because it's been a long time since I've wanted _anyone_ in my life. I wasn't expecting to find that here. Or you...”

She found herself gazing at her marked hand. “You sort of came as a surprise as well. All of this did. But you are a very pleasant surprise.”

He shocked her by taking her hand in his. “I'm glad.” He was quiet for a moment as they crossed into the tavern, his hand still grasping hers lightly. “You know when I read that report you sent about the dragon... I'm grateful you and your team were able to safely contain it.”

“Worried about me, Commander?” she teased, squeezing his hand.

He chuckled. “Imagine how I'm going to sleep now that I know how you feel about me.”

They sat at an unoccupied table. “I'm glad I can keep you up at night.”

His cheeks reddened as Cabot, the dwarven bartender who'd taken control when Flissa had moved to the kitchens, approached their table “Andraste preserve me,” he whispered.

“What can I get for you?”

Evelyn chuckled at Cullen's reaction and glanced at Cabot. “What's good today?”

“Nothing, as usual,” Cabot replied glibly.

“Then I'll take whatever you've got that is swimming in gravy,” she said with a grin, shamelessly teasing the loquacious dwarf.

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled and glanced at Cullen. “You?”

Cullen ordered his lunch and they continued enjoying each other's company until duty forced them apart again. He left to dive into his mountains of paperwork with a quick kiss on her cheek that was still burning when she found her way to Dorian in the library. “Anything interesting?” she asked, noting his nose buried in a sheaf of paper.

He paused his pacing and graced her with a companionable smile allowing his arm to fall to his side, the letter loose in his fingers. “A letter regarding Felix... Alexius' son.” He lifted the letter again and shook it, a deep sigh escaping before he continued. “He went to the Magisterium, stood on the senate floor and told them of you... A glowing testimonial, I'm informed. No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking. Felix always was as good as his word.”

“Was?” she asked, stepping toward him.

“He's dead... The blight caught up with him.” Dorian's face gave her no indication of his feelings.

“Are you alright?” she probed.

“He was ill, thus on borrowed time anyhow...”

“That doesn't mean you can't regret his death,” she said softly, knowing that Dorian was trying to mask his pain. From what she understood, he had been close with Felix.

“I know,” he sighed again, his voice as soft as hers. His eyes glistened as he began to share with her. “Felix used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I was working late in his father's study. 'Don't get into trouble in my behalf,' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say... Tevinter could use more mages like him... Those who put the good of others above themselves.”

“You make it sound like he was a better person than you,” she suggested.

He sniffed and brushed at his cheek before chuckling softly. “What a mad thing to say. Few people are better than I.” She offered up a sympathetic raise of her brow and he sighed. “Very well a better person, clearly. Not nearly as handsome.” He turned as if he were going to walk away but paused and turned a sad smile on her. “Thankfully, Felix wasn't the only decent sort kicking around Thedas.”

She allowed him his space to grieve, moving off to find a few of her other companions. Then it was back to her own desk where she tackled her own pile of paperwork.

 

Evelyn leaned heavily on the large oak table, scanning the map in the war room. “When is the Empress' ball?”

“In six weeks time,” Josephine answered.

“Okay, have Varric inform Hawke that we will be delayed in meeting her and Stroud in the Western Approach. We'll never make it in time. Instead, I'll take a small party, in the meantime, to the Fallow Mire to deal with the Avvar holding our people. With any luck I can make it there and back before I need to get prettied up to grace the court. Cullen, if you send a few volunteers ahead of us, they can help locate our people before I get there and cut my time shorter.” She recited.

“Of course, Inquisitor,” Cullen agreed, placing one of his little fist shaped figures down on the map.

“Josie, you're sure we can get an invitation to that ball?” She asked.

“Surprisingly, the incident in Verchiel that Sera brought to our attention gained us more allies than I would have guessed. There was also Warden Blackwall's treaties to take into consideration. Yes, I am confident we will have enough influence for someone to take notice.”

“Good. Keep me informed and if you could please look into securing that arcanist we've been hearing so much about?”

“Right away,” Josie said, marking her clipboard.

Evelyn looked up and smirked at Leliana who was standing patiently with her hands clasped behind her back. “Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you.” Leliana tipped her head and smiled sweetly. “Since you have experience with Darkspawn, I'd like you to instruct a few of your agents on how to deal with them and then send them to the Storm Coast and look into the reports we've been getting from the Blades of Hessarian about activity from caves around the area.” She glanced at her people and waved her hands. “Alright. I think we all could use a break. Go on, shoo.”

Her advisers all chuckled and came around the table to exit. Cullen lingered behind the other two. His hand briefly found the small of her back, sending a shiver down her spine as he walked out with her. “I'm going to miss you,” he said softly enough so the others didn't hear.

“How did I do in there?” she asked nervously.

“You showed great leadership and planning skills. I was very impressed,” he assured her, his voice still low as Leliana and Josephine chatted at the other end of the hallway.

“It just feels strange, giving you all orders...” she admitted.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Do not doubt yourself. We would not have handed the responsibility to you if we weren't willing to follow you. And let's be honest, even before, you may not have been giving the orders, but your decisions were what led us where we are.”

She beamed up at him, grateful for his words and his support. Then she sighed. “Well, I have a swamp to head to. How does one dress for a bog?”

He hummed a chuckle then kissed her forehead. “I would go with cured leather to keep the rain from seeping in.”

She hugged him, burying her face in the fur of his cloak and breathing him in. “I'll miss you, too.” She pulled away and grinned. “Now for the unenviable task of convincing Dorian to go with me.”

“Good luck with that,” he teased. “I'll not keep you any longer.”

Before leaving, she pulled him into a real kiss. “One for the road,” she smiled. His lopsided grin made leaving even harder.

 

“Ugh!” Sera growled as she almost lost one of her flat shoes in the mud. “Stupid swamp with it's stupid mud and it's stupid giant people snatching _our_ people.”

“We're not that far from where the other soldiers reported they'd spotted the Avvar,” Evelyn sighed, beginning to feel the efforts of slogging through the muck herself.

“Once we find them, we'll rescue our people and head back to Skyhold,” Blackwall said stoically. He was the only one of them who hadn't complained a whit about trudging in the mud for half a day.

“Easy for you to be so calm in your fancy boots with your fancy beard. What did you put on that thing to make the rain run off it like a duck's arse?” Sera asked.

Blackwall's lips twitched and he smirked. “Trade secret.”

“Wardens and your secrets,” she scowled.

A large stone ruin loomed ahead. From the massive chains that ran from the gatehouse into the swamp, Evelyn could tell that it had once been a huge structure. As they approached along the road, the piles of burning plague victims darkened the already muggy air. The smoke was light, but the stench was terrible. Evelyn was preoccupied with looking ahead for any sign of the Avvar that she nearly didn't see the burning corpse reanimated and crawling toward her from one of the bonfires. She let out a shriek as Dorian grabbed her and pulled her to his side. Blackwall stabbed down through the corpse's head, giving it a second death. “There's more,” Dorian pointed out, his hand still around her bicep.

“Way too many for us. Head for the gate and we can close it once we're inside,” Blackwall suggested.

He cleared them a path, running ahead to cut down the corpses that were making their way onto the road. His shield blocked a few projectiles that came from past the gates and Sera quickly dispatched the Avvar that had been waiting for them out of sight. Once they all passed through the gates, Evelyn rushed up the wooden set of stairs that led around to the gate controls above. The others stayed behind, keeping the corpses at bay.

When the gates were closed, they followed the blissfully un-muddied road toward the stronghold. Waiting for them was a burly man who carried a huge two handed hammer, much like Bull did. He had several other men positioned around him. “Herald of Andraste! Face me!” he shouted. “I am the hand of Korth himself!”

Evelyn's staff was in her hand as the man let out a fierce battle cry and rushed from the top of the tall staircase where he stood. She spun it around twice and then jutted it forward, throwing a fireball from the end to smack into him before he reached her. He laughed as he patted out the fire on his armor. “Fasta Vass!” Dorian swore and Evelyn backed up.

She was already charging her staff for a winter's grasp while her fingers mimed the glyph that would call a crushing prison around their attacker. Blackwall felled one of the shield bearers to her left and she heard Dorian chanting. As another of the soldiers fell like a pincushion under Sera's bow, Dorian's chanting got louder and more complex. Evelyn dropped the glyph on the ground under the leader who was charging her again. Her spell formed around him and began to close in on itself, making very little room for him. Like the templar at the crossroads that had been her first kill, he stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move. Dorian's spell sucked at the air around them, making her temporarily dizzy. She glanced around to see what he had done, and she noticed two shadowy figures ringed in a purple mist dart upwards from the corpses on the ground and rush toward the man who was slowly being crushed. He was much more resilient than the templar and he had no metal armor on him to crush his lungs. Her spell dwindled before he choked to death and Dorian's spirit minions rushed in to begin hacking and slashing at the vulnerable man. Blackwall and Sera were dispatching the other threats, both in their own fashion. Sera in wild abandon, the battlefield lighting up from all of her little philters of flashy distractions that gave her the upper hand, and Blackwall with unparalleled discipline. Evelyn called forth the winter's grasp that she had charged and set it on the Avvar as Dorian's puppets faded. Her fellow mage was leaning heavily on his staff and she stepped up, using her fist of the Maker to knock the leader to his knees. He was laughing again and the fact that he was bloodied and bruised and choking and still mocking her enraged Evelyn. She glanced down at her hands, feeling her magic swirling inside her like a blaze as he got back to his feet. Her eyes lifted and she glared him down. First her right hand reached forward, her staff having found it's holster seemingly of it's own volition. A gigantic spirit fist manifested and grabbed hold of the man. When her left hand reached out and the second fist appeared, the battlefield went silent, as everyone stopped to watch. Evelyn breathed out and remembered what this man had done. He had abducted her people and issued a personal challenge to her. Now he was mocking her. With a cry of anger and strain, Evelyn pulled her arms apart, and the spirit fists mimicked her, effectively ripping the large man in two. Blood sprayed in an arc where he had stood and both of his halves dropped to the ground as the spirit hands disappeared.

“Maker's balls,” Blackwall muttered as the rest of the attackers backed off and dropped their weapons.

Evelyn jerked when a hand fell on her shoulder, but quickly recovered when Dorian's voice soothed over her. She spun and fell into his embrace, horrified that she had let her anger get the best of her. “Shh, it's all right.” he soothed, petting her rain soaked hair.

“Go on!” Sera shouted, chasing the ones who had begun to retreat. “Get out or we'll sick our Inky on you next!”

“Vishante kaffas!” Dorian said out loud, his voice rumbling through her as he held on to her. “Really, Sera? You have all the couth of a monkey hurling shit.”

Evelyn pushed away from Dorian and patted his chest gently. “It's fine. I'll be fine.”

“Yeah, don't get your panties in a twist. She'll be fine,” Sera retorted, sticking her tongue out at Dorian and prancing over to fish around on the two pieces of the Avvar to find some keys.

Their soldiers were safe in the locked room to the left of the entry and Evelyn had arrangements made to get them back to Skyhold so the injured could receive treatment.

 

Evelyn was never more excited to return to Skyhold, but something was amiss. As soon as she rode through the gates, Cole was waiting nearby, fidgeting and pacing. She dismounted and approached him warily. “Is everything all right Cole?”

He stopped pacing. “Song sings, sullen. Trapped and tortured. Visions of the hero, real or not real? The one thing I can't have. I must Endure...” His eyes flicked to hers and they were wild and scared. “ _He_ needs you.”

“Cullen,” she gasped. She reached out and gripped Cole's arm. “Where is he Cole?”

“With the Seeker, seeking... I have failed her...” Cole said.

Evelyn took off, climbing the stairs to the upper courtyard. Cassandra had set herself up in the top floor of the armory, so that was where Evelyn began her search. She could hear Cassandra speaking before she even entered the building. “You asked for my opinion and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?”

“I _expect_ you to keep your word! It's relentless. I can't...” his voice was strained and angry.

“You give yourself too little credit!” Cassandra retorted impassionedly.

“If I am unable to fulfill what vows I kept, then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than...” Evelyn could not listen any more. She understood what Cullen was asking of Cassandra. She wouldn't lose her Commander if she could help it. She wouldn't lose him. She pushed the door open and stepped into the armory. The fireplace to the back wall was the only light in the room and she blinked to adjust her vision. Cassandra crossed her arms and Cullen looked shocked to see her back. The shock of seeing her swiftly turned to a deep sadness. “Forgive me...” he said, passing her by and leaving her with Cassandra.

The Seeker snorted. “And people say _I'm_ stubborn... This is ridiculous.” Evelyn turned away from the door he'd closed behind him and her eyes questioned Cassandra. “Cullen told you that he's no longer taking Lyrium?”

“Yes, and I respect his decision,” she said.

“As do I. Not that he is willing to listen,” Cassandra's voice held sympathy. “Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.” Evelyn's stomach clenched in fear. “I refused. It's not necessary.” Cass' hand swiped downwards in finality and Evelyn breathed a short sigh of relief. “Besides, it would destroy him. He's come so far.”

“Why didn't he come to me?” Evelyn wondered out loud, her shaking fingers lifting to brush against her lips that still held the memory of his taste.

“We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a seeker, I could evaluate the dangers. And he wouldn't want to... risk your disappointment.” Cassandra said pointedly.

“Is there anything we can do to change his mind?” she asked, her arms wrapping around herself.

“If anyone could, it's you. Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the Order. Mind and soul, with someone always holding their Lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash, to prove to himself... and anyone who would follow suit... that it's possible. He _can_ do this. I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him. Decide if now is the time.” Cassandra patted Evelyn's arm with encouragement.

Evelyn thanked her and hurried to Cullen's office, praying that was where he had gone. She had a feeling he was hovering over that tool box that he kept in his drawer. As soon as she opened the door and stepped in, something crashed into the door frame beside her. She took a reflexive step back and he gasped. “Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter... I... Forgive me.” He straightened but she could tell by the pinch in his brow that he was hurting.

She identified the shattered remains of the box and nodded to herself. Cullen liked her humor, so she would try that. Instead of making him come to her, she approached his desk. “So long as you weren't aiming at me, I'm sure the box had it coming...” She couldn't quite mask the worry in her tone.

“I swear I didn't know you were...” He moved as if to come to her then doubled over, leaning on the desk with a grunt of pain. She cringed, her stomach knotting up at his suffering. When she moved even closer, he held up a hand. “I never meant for this to interfere.”

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked gently, saddened that he had held her from coming to him.

“Yes...” he said too quickly then hung his head. “I don't know.” He took a deep breath and pushed himself upright. When he spoke again, his voice was low and dejected. “You asked what happened to Fereldan's circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars... _my friends_... were slaughtered.” He moved to stare out the arrowslit window behind his desk, his hands fidgeting and the narrow beam of sunlight casting a shadow over his features. “I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I... How can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness.” His tone was becoming agitated as she listened intently. “Kirkwall's Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets.” He turned to look at her, the scowl on his face a punch in her gut. “Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

She tried to maintain her snark, hoping she might elicit a reaction, even as she fought her own tears. To have come through so much and still be the man he was... “With everything that's happened, you've picked a bad time to start over.” She moved to casually lean against the side of his desk, hugging herself.

“I should have seen that,” he agreed, moving to stand beside her. At least he wasn't shunning her anymore. He paced in small circles between the desk and the bookshelves. “I thought this would be better... that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won't leave me...” His arms gestured wildly up and down as he raved. “How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause... I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry! I should be taking it!” That last was said through gritted teeth and he suddenly pulled back and punched his right fist into the bookcase, knocking some of them to the floor. She gasped as his voice sunk to a whisper . “I should be taking it.”

“This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition,” she said quickly. “Is this what _you_ want?” She moved as she spoke, placing herself in front of him.

He breathed heavily and it seemed as if what he had done dawned on him. “No,” His fist loosened and he dropped his arm into her awaiting hands. She gently rubbed over his knuckles, quietly checking for breaks as he continued, his voice barely a whisper. “But... these memories have always haunted me... If they become worse, if I cannot endure this...”

She shook her head and pressed her marked hand up against his heart. “You _can_.”

He exhaled, but no smile came to his lips. She had to smile for both of them, then as he said, “All right.” He expressed his need for some time alone and she backed away, her hand lingering on his chest.

 

She retired to her quarters, her nerves on edge. Her hands shook as she went about bathing and dressing in some casual clothes. She then paced her room before venturing out to fetch herself some food from the kitchens. How long was long enough? She yearned to go and check on him, but she didn't believe crowding him was the answer. In the morning, she decided and forced herself to concentrate on some reports on her desk.

Her sleep was fitful and she was up with the dawn. She eagerly threw on some clothes and brushed her hair before going down to his tower. When she arrived, he was no where around. Where in Skyhold would he go? She set off towards 'their spot' on the battlements and sure enough, he was standing near the edge, gazing at the rising sun. His back was straight and he breathed deeply, a warm smile fitting in perfectly with his closed eyes. She knew the moment he sensed her because his eyes fluttered open and his smile widened. “I wanted to thank you.” He turned to speak directly to her. “When you came to see me... if there's anything...” He exhaled a breath and then rubbed his neck. “This sounded much better in my head.”

“I trust you're feeling better?” she asked, overjoyed to see him smiling again.

“I... yes,” he agreed hesitantly.

“Is it always that bad?” she asked in concern.

“The pain comes and goes,” he confessed. “Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there... I should not have pushed myself so far that day.”

“Skyhold won't fall apart if you take an hour for yourself now and then,” she sighed, relieved he was okay.

“I'll keep that in mind.” He turned to look back at the sun as it peeked over the mountains. “I never told anyone what truly happened to me at Ferelden's Circle. I was... not myself after that. I was angry. For years, that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man that made me...” he shook his head sadly. “The way I saw mages... I'm not sure I would have cared about you. And the thought of that sickens me. Now, I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It's a start.”

She stepped up and wrapped her arms around his left arm and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “For what it's worth, I like who you are now.”

He looked down at her. “Even after...”

She pulled away in shock to look him straight in the eyes. “Cullen, I care about you. You've done nothing to change that.” She emphasized her words by squeezing her hands around his bicep.

When he smiled in acceptance, she snuggled against him again. “What about you? You have troubles of your own. How are you holding up?”

“Honestly? I'm terrified,” she confessed. “So many people depend on us... on me. Corypheus is still out there.”

He dislodged his arm and wrapped it around her. “You've made great strides. Do not doubt yourself, or the Inquisition, just yet. If there's anything I can do, you have only to ask.”

 

Evelyn stood in front of the full length mirror and studied her own reflection, shaking her head. “It's no good, Vivienne.”

“Whatever is the matter, my dear? You look stunning.” Vivienne assured her, flapping her hand dismissively.

“That's all well and good, Viv, but what if I need to fight? There is bound to be blood...” she pointed out.

Vivienne ran her calculating eyes up and down Evelyn's frame. The dress she had been forced in was snow white in color, delicate beading and light silver threading ran throughout. It reached to the floor, solidifying the need for heels, lest she wished to trip over the hem all night. It was cut modestly in the front and dipped low in the back, leaving her shoulders bare along with most of her back. The sleeves were embroidered lace that had been dyed silver, and trailed past her wrists into little points on the backs of her hands. Vivienne sighed. “It would have been so perfect.”

“Can I get out of this now?” Evelyn pleaded, the sleeves itching her.

Before Vivienne could answer, Cullen's voice rose from the stairway. “Evelyn, Varric said you'd be up here. I have some reports that... need... your... Maker's breath,” he stopped at the top of the stairway, his mouth agape as his eyes trailed over her body from head to foot, bringing a flush to her cheeks. The reports he had been bringing her hung forgotten in his fingers. Finally he realized what he was doing and cleared his throat. “I can see you're busy. I'll... I'll come back later.”

“No,” she called before he got past the second step. She stepped off the short stool that Vivienne's seamstress had stood her on, scattering the couple of needle girls that were kneeling around her and pinning her hem. She cursed as the dress tried to trip her. “I can take a look at those now. Plus I think I need a soldier's opinion.”

“I'm not certain...” he paused and glanced around at the flurry of women in her room. “What would you need my opinion for?”

“The Winter Palace. There is likely a chance that if I'm saving the Empress from an assassin that I will need to probably fight, right?” she asked, her hand landing on his forearm, her body blocking the gesture from Vivienne.

“It is likely, why?” He glanced up and down her again and then his curious frown turned to a smirk. “You weren't thinking of wearing that, were you?”

“No,” she said, glancing back at Vivienne who took the chance to scowl. “I'm grateful Vivienne, but the ability to do my job outweighs the need to look fancy for the Orlesians.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “It was my understanding that Josephine has commissioned doublets for everyone who will be attending the ball to make the Inquisition distinguishable from the other guests.”

“That is acceptable for the rest of us, but the Inquisitor should stand out from the crowd, make herself the pinnacle of the party,” Vivienne insisted. “She must create an image for herself.”

“I'll wear a really big hat,” she chuckled. “But I might need to be a little more discreet than pinnacle of the party.” She gestured to Cullen as she spoke, asking for the papers he had brought her. He handed them over, his fingers brushing against hers quite deliberately and sending a shiver down her spine.

“It really is a shame,” he mused. “You look stunning.”

She flushed at his outright flirtation under Vivienne's careful watch. “Thank you, Cullen.”

Vivienne grunted. “I am clearly not needed anymore.” She herded the servants and seamstress out of the room ahead of her, leaving Evelyn and Cullen alone.

Evelyn sighed and shuffled across the room to flop awkwardly on the couch before the fire. “Thanks for the rescue,” she smirked, reaching down to pluck a pin from her ankle that had lodged itself there as she moved around the room.

“I'm actually glad I came when I did. You look...” he moved stalkingly around the end table to stand before her his hands resting on his sword hilt as usual, but they were not open and relaxed like she was used to. They were gripping tightly as if to stop himself from touching her. He cleared his throat and sat down on the edge of the couch. “So have you decided who you will be bringing with you to the Winter Palace?” He changed the subject abruptly and tore his eyes from her.

She flipped through the reports, skimming them as she slouched forward. She understood that she was likely distracting him, and it was both amusing and exciting. “Well, as much as I hate to say it, I'm bringing Vivienne with me. No one knows the Orlesian court quite like she does and with her abilities, she more than makes up for the fact that I'm not bringing a warrior with me.”

“What?” he asked, his head jerking back to stare at her in both concern and disbelief. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “I simply can't trust any of my warriors to behave themselves. This mission is important. I can't lose favor with the court because Bull is stuffing his face with canapes, or because Cassandra punched some noble.”

“What of Blackwall?” he asked, a small grin showing her that he agreed with her sentiment even though he disliked it.

“I've really not worked closely enough with him. I shouldn't take chances...” She sighed and sat back, pushing her hair behind an ear. Her breath came out in exasperation. “In any case, my other two choices are Varric and Dorian.”

Cullen scrutinized her with his eyes, “If you are certain, I will give Josephine the news.”

She nodded. “Thank you.” He reached out and plucked the reports from her hands and moved to stand. “Are you doing all right?” she asked grabbing his hand and tugging him back onto the couch.

His chuckle was grateful. “Yes. I've been taking it a little easier since you returned from the Mire. I refuse to allow my lapse of duty to occur again.”

Her smile faltered at his mention of the Mire as the image of the Avvar leader being ripped in half by her magic flashed across her eyes. “I'm glad.”

His eyes bored into her, the amber pools growing intense. “You know, your report was very sparse. That's really not like you Ev. What happened in that swamp?”

She sighed and sat forward, her elbows resting on her knees. She pushed her fingers through her hair, leaving them tangled about half way to her crown as a shaky sigh escaped her lips. “I was issued a personal challenge by the Avvar leader. When we met... He was _huge_ , and he had underlings that fought with him. His underlings kept my party occupied, but he only had eyes for me. He just kept coming, no matter what I threw at him... He laughed at me, mocked me, absorbed my spells like they were nothing... I... I just... I was so angry about what he'd done to our people. I lashed out. I grabbed both of his shoulders with my spirit arms... My magic did the rest...” Was she crying? When had that started?

Cullen slid closer to her and pulled her into his arms. She tucked her face between his neck and the fur of his cloak. He said nothing. He needn't shower her with platitudes and words of wisdom. He knew what she needed and it wasn't words. His papers laid abandoned on her coffee table and her tears shook her body as he held her.

They weren't there long. The sound of boots hitting the stairs was a distant thing. One she paid no heed to until his voice broke the silence. “Evelyn, darling, Vivienne told me I'm to be wearing a _uniform_ to this ball... Is she all together serious?” She sat up, Cullen grunting as she left his arms. Dorian crested the top of the stairs and the teasing sparkle in his eyes disappeared the second he noticed the state she was in. “What, in Andraste's name, happened here?” He crossed his arms and cocked his hips.

She stood and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Dorian. I'm sorry.”

He flapped his hand. “Nonsense. When you wouldn't talk to me about it. I knew eventually you would wind up crying on someone's shoulder. I just didn't expect the rumors from the barracks could be true.” He gave them each a wicked smirk. “This _is_ about the unfortunate state of the Avvar leader, no?”

She nodded, hugging herself against the chill that moving away from Cullen had brought to her. “Listen, Dorian, I'm suddenly not up for entertaining. We'll talk about the uniforms another time?”

“Say no more, I shall make myself scarce.” His eyes flicked to Cullen who was sitting as still as stone, probably trying to pretend he wasn't there. “And you, Commander. You and I will be having words later about what might happen should you hurt my little girl.”

As he turned to find his way back out, Evelyn allowed herself a short chuckle as Cullen whispered, “Andraste, preserve me.” When she heard the resounding boom that was her door closing, Cullen stood and came to her. He pried her arms from around her own waist and pulled her close to him again. She breathed him in, comfortable even as the metal of his cuirass pressed against her cheek. After a few moments, his voice rumbled through her as he spoke. “His little girl?” his chuckle was light and teasing.

She managed a weak smile herself. “I think Dorian might have adopted me somewhere between Redcliffe and Crestwood.”

He hummed a short approval. “I'm glad you have someone looking out for you when I can't.”

She sighed. “Well in two days, we'll be riding off together.”

“Yes, with a company of soldiers, spies and numerous other inconveniences that will allow for little to no privacy,” he reminded her.

“Well, from what Dorian just said, the cat's already out of the bag. I don't really see the point in hiding. At least from our own people,” she pointed out.

“You're comfortable with that?” he asked tipping her head up so she was looking at him and wiping some of the drying tears from her cheeks.

“Only if you are.”

His fingers found their way into her hair at the base of her skull and she closed her eyes, relishing his touch. He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “I think right now, you need to rest. You look exhausted.”

She smiled. “Is that an order, Commander. Because I do outrank you, now.”

He chuckled. “It's more of a request.”

“Well, that I can handle.”

He kissed her lips, his earthy scent and the taste of morning dragging her further into his arms. “Good night, Evelyn.”

 


	10. Intrigue and Assassins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn visits the Winter Palace for a ball

Taking Vivienne anywhere was a nightmare. Josephine had insisted that Evelyn and her inner circle should travel to the Winter Palace by carriage to alleviate the dust that might be kicked up on the road and keep their clothing as clean as possible. Evelyn sat slouched in the corner of her bench staring across the void at Varric who was watching the other two mages in the carriage with a smirk of interest. He was definitely slipping this into his next book. She knew it. She tugged at the neck of the velvety top that she would have considered more of a coat than a doublet. Josephine had chosen a bright red as the base of the atrocity. It was trimmed in gold and sported golden tassels that draped the shoulders. It reached to about mid thigh and was cinched at the waist with a belt that matched the color of the shoulders. Beneath the belt and draped over the left shoulder was a silky sash in a deep blue. The pants were tan and disappointingly plain, and the boots, slightly darker, continued past her knees to a few inches below the bottom of the coat. She was almost wishing she had chosen the stupid white dress.

Dorian shared her bench. His arms and legs were crossed and the glare and pursed lips he was directing at Vivienne said he was as displeased with being locked up in the carriage as Evelyn was. “I presume you know what they will say of Corypheus, Dorian.” Vivienne had been poking at Dorian the entire morning, trying to elicit some sort of response. So far, apparently, she had not gotten what she wanted because she continued to persist. For those trapped in the small space with them, it was wearing thin.

Dorian cocked his head and continued to glare at her. “Darkspawn? Madman? Relic of an unwanted past? Don't keep me in suspense.”

Vivienne looked much like the rest of them. Different. Her usual confident posture was lost in the way her coat fitted more loosely than the elegant robes she usually wore. Still, she attempted to convey her opinion with a simple sneer. “They will say he is Tevinter.”

Dorian gasped, his volume and tone putting on as much of a show as the way his right hand unraveled from his other arm and waved dramatically before his fingertips came to rest over his heart. “No!”

Vivienne ignored his sarcasm. “I'm aware you claim to be here to counter that, but the damage is done.”

Dorian sighed and his mustache twitched as his upper lip curled in a defensive sneer. “I'm not here on behalf of my nation's reputation, Vivienne. I'm here to do what is right.”

Vivienne barked a disbelieving laugh. “If only more of your countrymen felt as you do.”

Before Dorian could retort, Evelyn felt the carriage grind to a halt. “Thank the Maker,” she grumbled and stood quickly to throw the door open and hop out. She didn't care what the problem was or why they stopped. She needed out of that hell. She glanced around and saw they they had stopped near a lovely clearing graced by a water fall. The clearing was already bustling with men and women setting up camp and disturbing the wildlife. It was only just after noon. Evelyn frowned and turned to find her advisers. “What's going on?” she asked with curiosity as the three of them stood in a circle. They were all wearing the same awful outfits as she, and the only one who didn't look painfully different was Josephine. It was like she was born for the formal wear in spite of the fact that it wasn't festooned in ruffles as most of her attire. Cullen looked bitter. She had seen him outside his armor before, but then it had been comfortable and he had been relaxed. Now he clutched his sword hilt with a brooding look on his face. Leliana was without her usual hood and Evelyn realized she had never actually seen the spymaster's shock of red hair. She kept it cut just below her hair line and parted to the left. A single small braid hung amidst the rest on her left side. It was a simple style, but it suited her.

“One of the wagons carrying some of our supplies had one of it's wheels snap in two,” Leliana said with a cheerful smile. “We decided to make camp early to allow time for it to be repaired.”

Evelyn nodded in understanding. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Let the workers do their jobs, Inquisitor,” Josephine scoffed.

“Okay, but I am _not_ going back to that carriage. Dorian and Viv should never be in the same room,” she whispered.

Cullen chuckled in spite of his discomfort. “You are welcome to travel with us, we have a free seat.”

Leliana chuckled. “The one beside you, no doubt,” she teased.

They had not formally announced their relationship, but they had no longer hidden their affections. Evelyn nor Cullen were overly comfortable with brazen displays in full view of the entire Inquisition, but small gestures and how they interacted together was enough to set the gossip wagon on it's ear. A light flush came to Cullen's cheeks and Evelyn smirked.

 

The Winter Palace was unlike anything Evelyn had ever seen. When they heard the announcement that they were approaching, she had pushed aside the curtain on the window beside her. She gaped at the marvel in architecture. The main structure was outlined with several towers and flying buttresses that added to the elegant sweeps of the curving décor and drew your attention to the golden lions that stood watch over it all. The entire palace was painted with the traditional powder blue and white that the empire loved so much. “Inquisitor, please,” Josephine scolded.

Leliana chuckled. “Let her gawk, Josie. Better now than in front of the Court.

“Even the circle in Ostwick was not as grand as this,” she mused as Cullen grabbed hold of her belt while half her body found it's way out the window to get a better look.

“Yes, and this is just the Winter Palace,” Cullen reminded her with a tug to pull her back inside.

She returned to her seat. “So, Josie, give me the rundown again.” Evelyn wanted to be certain that she did everything right.

Josephine sat a bit straighter and then reached out to brush some of Evelyn's hair back into place. Before they had set out that morning, Vivienne had styled her white hair into something more suitable to an Orlesian ball than her usual tuck behind the ear and go. It was up off her neck and only small whisps hung to frame her face. It had been braided tight to her head and the ends tucked into a small bun. “The political situation in Halamshiral hangs by a thread. The Empress fears our presence could sever it. The Grand Duke is only too happy to have us at the ball as his guests, so our invitation comes from him. Whether we act as his allies, or upset the balance of power, he gains an opportunity... if not a clear advantage.”

“So, I need to get in and do some discreet digging to find out who exactly is planning to murder Celene...” she finished. Cullen's hand had remained behind her, resting gently at the small of her back. In spite of the circumstances, her mood was light. It had been ages since she'd been to a ball of any sort, nevermind an Orlesian royal ball.

“Precisely,” Leliana purred as the carriage rolled to a stop. “The rest of us will head in first and give you some time to mingle outdoors before you are officially announced. We will brief you once you have been greeted by Celene in the Ballroom.”

Four Inquisition soldiers awaited them as they exited the carriage. Evelyn took another chance to admire the Palace as they approached the golden gates of the main entrance. They passed under the intricately designed gates and the soldiers stopped and parted to allow her and the others to pass between them and into the garden area. Evelyn had never seen so many ornate fountains or well tended flower beds. Several other guests meandered about, the gossip already in full swing, their voices in tune with the background music of the minstrels. Evelyn shook her head. Bards. This was Orlais.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan! It is an honor to meet you at last.” At the sound of her name, she pulled her eyes from the décor and glanced at the man who was approaching her. The others passed by her, to do as they had planned, and her palms began to sweat. She pulled her back straighter and breathed to slow her heart. This was the Orlesian court. One false step or show of weakness and your world would come crashing down. “Bringing the rebel mags into the ranks of your army was a brilliant move.” The man continued.

When he stopped before her, she was loathe to see that like everyone else in the garden, he was wearing a mask. The expression on the golden face seemed to be very pleased with itself, like a comedy mask from a playbill. His mouth was exposed and he wore no hat or cowl to cover his closely shorn black hair. Evelyn noticed that he had the largest earlobes that she had ever seen and she forced herself not to stare. Below, he wore brightly colored formal armor complete with gauntlets and large pointed metal pauldrons.

Her eyes narrowed, as she decided this must be the Grand Duke. His next phrase did everything to solidify her suspicion as he crossed his arms. “Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!”

Evelyn chuckled, unable to control herself. “And which one _was_ the rightful one, again? I keep getting them confused.”

The Duke did not take offense to her remark and instead bowed formally and grinned. “The handsome, charming one, of course, my lady.” She stifled the laugh that nearly broke through. How arrogant could you be? And how stupid did he think she was? “I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I'll help you... My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper? They will be telling stories of this into the next age!”

How dramatic. Evelyn forced a smirk onto her face and played to his ego. It was clearly the way to go with Gaspard. “I can't imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in their entire lives.”

“You're a woman after my own heart, my lady.” He paused as his eyes moved behind his mask, sizing her up. “As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could undertake this evening. This elven woman Briala... I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these 'ambassadors' all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.”

Evelyn raised a brow. “Tell me there's more to your suspicion than, 'the elves were acting dodgy'.”

“That 'ambassador' Briala, used to be a servant of Celene's. That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the empire to cover up a political mistake. If anyone in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it's that elf. She certainly has reason.” He sighed, making certain to convince Evelyn that he was tired of everything that was happening. She wasn't buying it. “Be as discreet as possible. I detest the game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains. We're keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor, shall we?”

She nodded then asked for a few moments to be sure all of her people were in place. She knew they were, but she wanted to be rid of the Duke to get a read on the atmosphere of the party. He agreed and left her. Evelyn made a show of walking among the rows of large planters, her ears on high alert. She made a circuit of the lower level. There was a door beneath the balcony on the right as you headed for the main entrance. She could feel magic humming by the door and she reached out to touch it. There was a Halla symbol carved just above the handle and Evelyn cocked her head, wondering what that could mean. Surrounding the door were several hollows, each one with a small ornament fitted in. One of the hollows was empty. Unable to get the door open, Evelyn left it a mystery.

Upstairs, on the balcony to the left, she overheard some of the nobility discussing the casualties in the Dales where most of the civil war was taking place. Things sounded grim. As she was listening under the guise of smelling some of the flowers in the upraised bed beside her, she happened to glance to her side and see a small statuette shoved under one of the benches that lined the balcony. Frowning, she moved to sit down, casually crossing her legs. When she was certain that no one was watching, she reached down and scooped it up. It was a statuette of a Halla. She wondered whether it might open that door if she placed it in the empty hollow. She stood and with the Halla clutched in her hand, she made her way back down from the balcony. She didn't get a chance to try the door however as Josephine waved her over from the entry to the Vestibule. “Inquisitor, a moment, if you please?” Evelyn pocketed the Halla and smiled, making her way over to Josie. “I must warn you before you go inside. How you speak to the court is a matter of life and death. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness.”

Evelyn was now used to this speech. She had heard it about three thousand times over the course of the week. She simply continued to smile and allow Josie her little meltdown. “Don't they sound delightful. I'm shocked we haven't invited the court to dinner at Skyhold.”

“The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards. When you meet the Empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you. You were safer staring down Corypheus,” Josephine sighed, but her hands were pinned to her sides. The urge to fidget must have been unbearable if her expression spoke the truth.

“You are just full of joy and light this evening,” Evelyn teased, giving Josie's arm a pat as she walked past her toward the vestibule.

“Everything will be fine!” Josie said cheerily as if she were trying to convince herself. Evelyn also caught the whispered prayer as the ambassador followed her inside.

The vestibule was just about as pompously decorated as the outside of the castle. Golden statues, ornate rugs and filigreed handrails almost made Evelyn itch in discomfort. She had never seen this much coin in her lifetime wasted in one place. At the top of the stairs, her people were clustered in a small group awaiting her so they could go into the ball room and be announced.

Evelyn squared her shoulders and nodded to the Duke who tipped his head before opening the ball room doors. A few moments passed as the Duke's men and Josephine spoke quietly with the herald and handed him their guest lists. The herald took the scrolls and unrolled them. After he cleared his throat, he spoke loudly over the music. “And now presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard De Chalons.” Gaspard moved ahead of her and down to the landing that led down to the dance floor. Everyone had moved to the side to allow them passage. He bowed low, across the length of the floor. At the opposite end of the floor and above stood two women who were discreetly surrounded by guards. The Empress herself was dressed in a frill less dress that hung to the floor. It was the same color blue as the sash across Evelyn's own chest. Her cleavage was modestly covered with a golden embroidered camisole that tucked inside the low cut of the dress. On her back was a large decorative shield in the shape of a lion's face. Unsurprisingly, it was also golden. Her mask was thinner than Gaspard's and allowed Evelyn to see a bit more of her face. She was pretty, but not overly beautiful. Evelyn could seen the strain of running the Empire in her pinched eyes. Her white blonde hair was done up much like Evelyn's and her makeup gave her a pale complexion. As Gaspard started down the stairs to cross the dance floor, the herald continued. “And accompanying him... Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan, of the Ostwick Circle of Magi.” Evelyn took a deep breath as she walked down the stairs, turned on her heels to bow as Gaspard had, and then stood momentarily to wait while the others were announced. “Vanquisher of the Rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the mage underground!” Evelyn's smile faltered as the herald added embellishments.

Vivienne hissed in her ear. “Remember to smile. This is all for show, my dear.”

Evelyn regained her composure as the herald moved on. “Champion of the blessed Andraste herself! Accompanying the Inquisitor: Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, Mistress of the Duke of Ghislain. Renowned author, Varric Tethras. Head of Noble House Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchants Guild. Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel. Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath, Commander of the forces of the Inquisition, Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court, Veteran of the Fifth Blight, Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine. And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City, Ambassador of the Inquisition.” The man was going to need a glass of water after that mouthful. They moved forward as a group and Evelyn could feel the eyes of the onlookers peeling away her flesh layer by layer. She pressed her lips together and they quickly reached the stairs that led them up to stand below the Empress.

Gaspard was speaking to his cousin already. “Cousin. My dear sister.” He addressed both women and Evelyn realized that the other standing beside Celene was Duchess Florianne. Her gown was much simpler than Celene's, and less colorful, but their masks were nearly identical.

“Grand Duke, we are always honored when your presence graces our court,” the Empress smiled beautifully and Evelyn stood patiently awaiting her turn to speak and listening to everyone's tone with extreme prejudice.

“Don't waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude,” Gaspard barked, almost making Evelyn cast a curious glance at the man. She kept her head still, however and realized that her cheeks were getting sore from the plastered on smile she was wearing.

“We will meet for the negotiations _after_ we have seen to our other guests,” Celene insisted, her voice not pushy, but soft and melodic. Gaspard bowed with a flourish and moved off, leaving Evelyn alone on the landing, staring up at the Empress. Celene tilted her head to the side and addressed Evelyn. “Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.”

The woman gave a stiff curtsy and her smile was more of a smirk. “What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities. We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.” The Duchess turned and headed for the far end of the ballroom. If this was strange, Celene gave no indication.

“Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer's day,' Celene said to Evelyn.

“Let's hope the breeze does not herald an oncoming storm,” Evelyn said in way of warning that there was much going on that Celene should be worried about.

“Even the wisest mistake fair winds for foul. We are at the mercy of the skies, Inquisitor,” Celene said as if there were nothing to fear. “How do you find Halamshiral?”

“I have no words to suffice,” Evelyn said truthfully. “Halamshiral has many beauties, and I couldn't do them justice.”

“Your modesty does you credit,” the Empress said with what Evelyn thought might be a genuine smile on her lips. “and speaks well for the Inquisition.” O _h, do I get a cookie?_ Evelyn thought. “Feel free to enjoy the pleasantries of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance.”

Evelyn bowed and made her way up from the dance floor to where she had seen the others disperse. At the top of the staircase, Leliana was waiting for her, a concerned look on her face. If she was letting it show, her news must have been big. “Inquisitor, a word, when you have a moment.” Before Evelyn could respond, Leliana disappeared into the crowd.

Evelyn felt extremely out of place. She was unsure which direction to take, so she went to her right, further toward the back of the ballroom and past the balcony where Celene and the Duchess had retired. It seemed as if there was not much to be seen there, so she continued, feeling lost until the reached the opposite side of the ballroom. Standing by a tall rounded table, backed into the wall, was Cullen. She was surrounded by a plethora of other guests, all of whom were offering to get him drinks and asking if he'd like to dance. His arms were crossed over his chest in a defensive stance and his cheeks were nearly as red as his coat. She politely pushed her way through the crowd to approach him. “Inquisitor! Did you need something!” he asked, pushing away from the wall to take her elbow and lead her a short distance from the crowd that seemed to slowly reassemble as they spoke. “The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better.”

“You've attracted a following,” she pointed out, her voice teasing. “Who are all these people?”

“I don't know, but they won't leave me alone,” he sighed.

“Not enjoying the attention, then?” she poked.

His brows rose. “Hardly. Anyway, yours...” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Yours is the only attention worth having.”

She smiled sweetly and resisted the urge to reach up and give him a peck on the cheek. Instead, she rolled her shoulders back and asked. “Do you have any advice?”

He scowled. “Orlesian social events don't fall within my area of expertise. There are few here we can trust. Be careful.”

“Who do you think the Inquisition should support?” she asked him.

“Gaspard's claim to the throne is fair. Orlais needs someone capable of responding to the crisis at hand. A military-minded leader seems the best option.”

“Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” She knew in spite of the harassment he was suffering, his eyes were likely still picking out threats.

He sighed. “Not yet. It would be easier if people would stop talking to me.” He quickly blinked at her and amended his statement. “ _Other_ people. Not you.”

She grinned and glanced at Cullen's suitors. Then she asked softly. “I don't suppose you'd save a dance for me?”

“No, thank you,” he said dryly.

“Oh...” She felt her smile falter as her heart fluttered in disappointment.

He seemed to realize what he'd said and his arm twitched as if he wished to touch her arm, but knew it was a bad idea. “No! I didn't mean to... Maker's Breath! I've answered that question so many times, I'm rejecting it automatically.” He sighed as she listened to his explanation. “I'm not one for dancing. The templars never attended balls.”

She nodded her understanding and said, “We'll talk later?”

“I await your signal.”

She left him to the crowd, lifting her chin and attempting to look unphased. She spotted Vivienne not far off at her own table, although she did not have a gaggle of Orlesians surrounding her. “And here we are!” Viv said in way of greeting. “You haven't embarrassed yourself as much as I feared. Well done, my dear.”

Evelyn swallowed her initial retort of _give me time_ and instead asked a question that had been plaguing her. “I've always wondered, what's the Orlesian fascination with masks?”

“We all wear masks, my dear,” Vivienne explained over her wine glass. “Not just the people in Orlais. Who you are as a daughter, a lover, a friend are very different people from the Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste. Orlesians codify this truth, make it visible. By giving each of these selves its own separate face, they believe they can be their truest selves, unmasked.”

Evelyn nodded, in a way understanding what Vivienne was saying. “Anything happening I should know?”

“Keep an eye out for Celene's pet apostate. I've no doubt she's involved in this,” Vivienne warned.

“It seems like you enjoy this, Vivienne,” Evelyn pointed out, comparing her carefree stance versus Cullen's crossed arms.

Viv's smile grew. “This is the Game, Inquisitor. Of course I enjoy it. If I didn't I'd be dead by now.”

“Any words of wisdom for navigating the ballroom?” Vivienne was probably the best person to ask.

“Speak to the Council of Heralds. Six of them are here tonight. The seventh member of the Council is... indisposed.” Her expression briefly turned bitterly sad before she continued. “His absence will complicate the negotiations. The Council are the highest ranking players of the Game. They see everything. They might know something we can use.”

Evelyn thanked Vivienne and took her leave. The ballroom was not the place to be eavesdropping on idle gossip. She made her way back out to the vestibule where she was stopped by Leliana. “Good, I was hoping I would catch you. What did the Duke say?”

“He points the finger at Ambassador Briala,” Evelyn reported.

Leliana nodded her agreement. “The Ambassador is up to something, but she can't be our focus. The best place to strike at Celene is from her side.” Leliana guided Evelyn to a small sofa and sat casually on the arm. “Empress Celene is fascinated by mysticism... foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead, that sort of rubbish. She has an 'occult adviser'. An apostate who charmed the Empress and key members of the court as if by magic. I've had dealings with her in the past. She is ruthless and capable of anything.”

“How can Celene openly keep an apostate in the Imperial court?” Evelyn asked, frowning.

“The Imperial Court has always had an official position for a mage. Before now, it was little better than Court Jester. Vivienne was the first to turn that appointment into a source of real political power. When the Circles rebelled, technically, every mage became an apostate. The word lost much of its strength,” Leliana explained, her voice low as to not draw attention.

“That sounds exactly like the person we're looking for,” Evelyn mused.

“She's worth investigating. Can't be sure of anything here. Both leads point toward the guest wing. It's a promising place to start,” Leliana cocked her head to the side in the direction of the guest wing. “I'll coordinate with our spies to see if I can find anything better. I will be in the ballroom if you need me.”

Leliana stood and brushed against Evelyn with a reassuring pat on her way by. Again, Evelyn found herself alone. She moved slowly toward the guest wing, using the paintings along the walls as an excuse to continue in that direction. Up a flight of stairs, she ran into a pair of doors leading into the library that were both locked. With a muttered curse, she made her way back down the stairs to see if she might find another way around. She kept her ears wide open, listening to the talk of the court. The word on everyone's lips was Inquisition. It made her feel like she stuck out. She managed to find a few of the Council members, that Vivienne had pointed her to, and speak to them. She also overheard two different pairs of elven servants that mentioned both the guest wing and the servants quarters. With a clear destination, she stepped out on a balcony to get some air. She leaned against the rail and heard a distinct click as her boot connected with something. She looked down and frowned. “What's this?” she asked herself as she knelt to pick up the tiny scroll. When she unfurled it, there were notes about elven servants and what time they had entered the servant's quarters and not returned. She pocketed the note and sighed. Even her little break had involved some intrigue. She still hadn't found another way into the guest wing so she decided to see if there might be a way in through the garden.

When she passed into the small area, she was greeted by the gentle strumming of a lute and three women dressed identically to each other who called her attention to them. “My lady! My Lady Inquisitor!” They lined up like ducks in a row and bowed in perfect synchronicity.

“May we have a word? It is very important,” one of the others said.

It was like watching an open melee at a tourney. They switched back and forth between each other as they spoke, making it hard to keep track of which one was speaking at any given time. “The Empress has sent us with a message for you.”

“I'm always honored to hear from her majesty,” Evelyn said with a diplomatic smile.

“Oh! She is the honored one, Inquisitor.”

“Empress Celene is eager to assist the Herald of Andraste in her holy endeavor.”

“She will pledge her full support to the Inquisition as soon as the usurper Gaspard is defeated.”

“Let me guess,” Evelyn said with a sigh. “All she wants in return is for me to help her defeat the Duke...”

“Oh! This is not meant as a bargain, by any means, Inquisitor.”

“The support of the Empress is not conditional. It will be yours once the negotiations are concluded.”

“The Empress is the most skilled diplomat in Thedas. Gaspard is hopelessly out of his depth.”

“But we have taken enough of your time.”

“Please, enjoy the Masquerade, Inquisitor.”

They left with another bow and Evelyn hoped her head hadn't swiveled too comically as she'd tried to listen. A most welcome sight stood in the middle of the garden, sipping from a wine glass. When he saw her, he grinned, genuinely happy to see her. “This is all so familiar!” Dorian said, patting her on her shoulder as she approached. “I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners!” He chuckled.

“Is this how the elite of Tevinter carry on?” she asked mockingly.

“You could _almost_ mistake this for a soiree in the Imperium. The same double-dealing, elegant poison, canapes... It's lacking only a few sacrificial slaves and some blood magic... But the night _is_ still young,” he said with a wink.

“What if your mother _were_ actually here? Where would we be then?” Evelyn asked gently nudging his shoulder.

He chuckled again. “Short one mage after he's dragged out by his earlobe.”

“I'm having difficulty picturing that,” she said with her own laugh.

“Picture me a young boy of five years, then. She certainly always has,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I appreciate that you were willing to come here,” she offered and his brow rose.

“And expose myself to all of this exquisite finery and exotic wines? Such hardship...”

She rolled her eyes. “Not everyone's likely to be friendly, that's all I meant.”

“It's true. You'd think I smelled of cabbages, the way they wrinkle their noses. It's of no concern, but thank you.” He smiled at her and then downed the rest of his drink.

“Have you noticed any entries into the guest wing that aren't guarded?”she asked, glancing around.

He shrugged. “You could always climb the trellis...” He had been joking, but she saw a tall white trellis behind him that indeed led to the upper balcony and a doorway inside. “Oh, no... Evelyn I was not actually suggesting...” he sighed at the gleam in her eye.

“Do you think you could maybe create a small distraction so I can get up there?” she asked, squeezing his arm.

He groaned and deflated. “Anything for you, now let me know when you're ready.”

She thanked him and shuffled over to the bottom of the trellis. When she was there, she wiggled her fingers to him. Dorian lifted his arm and smashed the glass he had been drinking from on the ground. “I say, Minstrel! Could you possibly play something a bit less... Orlesian?”

He was faking drunk and doing a fine job of it. All eyes fell on him as he approached the woman playing the lute and recited several different titles to songs she had never heard of. Evelyn didn't waste a second. She jammed her foot into one of the small diamond shaped holes and scurried quickly up the trellis. Hoping no one saw, she climbed up over the rail and onto the balcony. She couldn't be gone long or people would miss her. She started toward the main door, but there was a trail of blood that led off to the left. It led her to a door much like the one she'd encountered outside in the entry garden. She hurried over and saw only one open hollow, yet again. She reached up and ran her fingers over the bottom and felt a mechanism. She grinned and pulled the Halla statuette from her pocket and slipped it in the groove. It fit like a glove and the door clicked open. Inside she was greeted with the smell of early decay. She put a hand up to her nose and moved inside the tiny closet. There was a body of a man. She knelt and plucked through his clothes and found a letter to Celene from Gaspard mentioning a weapon that Briala had that could turn the tide of every war. Evelyn had no idea what the weapon might be, so she pocketed the letter and made her way back to the door into the library.

Inside the Library, she was assaulted by the call of magic from behind a wall. She closed her eyes and allowed the magic to draw her in. There had to be a hidden mechanism. She stepped to her left and began fiddling with the books on the shelves. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled one of the books and something clicked. The wall depressed and slid to the side, allowing her access. On the desk that was surrounded by many different magical artifacts, Evelyn found a letter from Celene to a 'Lady M' asking her to be at her side for the ball to protect her from any magical assault that Gaspard might use against her, as well as mentioning the royal wing and some 'unpleasantness'. Evelyn had heard that the royal wing was sealed. Interesting.

Evelyn heard the bell ring and jumped. “I should get back,” she said to herself and gathered the note to go with the others she'd collected. She knew she couldn't go back the way she had come so she scurried down the stairs to the main part of the library. Finding the double doors, she prayed they would open from this side. Luckily when she turned the knob, the door opened easily. She closed it behind her just as the second bell sounded. “Fashionably late, now,” she mumbled, straightening her coat.

She crossed the Vestibule to the entrance to the Ballroom to give Leliana what she'd found. Just before she pushed the doors open, a voice drew her attention. It was deep and husky and Evelyn could feel power moving toward her. “Well, well, what have we here?” When Evelyn turned to face the voice, she was taken aback by the beauty of the woman. She was pale of skin and her hair was black like the wings of a raven, pulled to the back of her head and tucked in a messy bun, the front free to flow gently on the air as she walked. She wore an exquisitely elaborate gown that was mainly black to match her hair. The top above her corset was a deep red, almost purple in certain lights with a slightly darker leaf pattern. Her eye shadow matched the color perfectly. The sleeves reached down to her elbows and were cinched up on both sides to give them an inflated look. The dress' neckline reached low, but her modesty was kept by the wide golden chain and amulet that dangled from her neck. “The leader of the new Inquisition. Fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself.” Her words were both playful and sarcastic, letting Evelyn know that she didn't believe a word of the rumors. She paused before Evelyn, blinking her golden yellow irises in curiosity. “What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial court, I wonder? Do even you know?”

Evelyn decided to handle this woman with either honesty or a bit of her own sarcasm. Anything else would likely turn her against Evelyn and the Inquisition. “We may never know,” she said crossing her arms over her chest. “Courtly intrigues and all that.”

The woman's brow rose ever so slightly. If Evelyn hadn't been studying the woman so closely, she might have missed it. “Such intrigues obscure much. But not all.” She dipped her head slightly and a half smile pulled at her painted lips. “I am Morrigan. Some call me adviser to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane. You... have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace.” Morrigan knew she had been in her office. “Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

“I don't know, do we?” Evelyn asked. Leliana had spoken ill of this woman, but so far, Evelyn was intrigued.

Morrigan's laugh was truly amused and it rang like a bell. “You are being coy.”

“I'm being careful,” Evelyn corrected.

“Not unwise, here of all places. Allow me to speak first then. Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor. A key found on the Tevinter's body.” She passed a simple key to Evelyn who in turn slipped it in her coat with the letters she'd collected. “Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.”

Evelyn decided to throw Morrigan a bone, since she had trusted her with the key. “Briala's people are whispering about disappearances in the servant's quarters. This key may lead there.”

“The Ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not? Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting.” Morrigan left her to enter the ballroom and likely return to Celene with a grin to match her words.

Evelyn followed not far behind, still needing to talk with Leliana. She found her not far from where Cullen was standing, still surrounded by his fan club. He was looking increasingly agitated. Leliana was watching with amusement as she sipped on a drink. Once Evelyn had explained everything she had found, Leliana called over one of her people and whispered in his ear. He saluted and then disappeared. “Go and speak with Briala and the Empress' ladies in waiting. By the time you've finished, the rest of your party will be waiting by the servants' quarters with your weapons in case there is trouble.

Evelyn got a few interesting tidbits from Briala and the triplets, and then she made her way back out of the ballroom and toward the servants' quarters. Sure enough, the others were standing discreetly by the door and their weapons were tucked in a corner behind a tapestry. “I don't have much time before I'm missed. Let's go,” she said after the key successfully turned the lock and the door clicked open.

She felt much safer with her staff in her hands as they descended the dark stairway. It spilled them in a small storage room off the kitchen. There were at least three bodies strewn around and Evelyn carefully stepped over them as she pushed forward. “These must be the missing elves Briala's people were worried about. Ah, shit,” Varric grunted quietly. As they found their way out of the kitchens, Evelyn spotted another of the Halla statuettes. Pocketing it in case she needed it, they left. Outside, they were in a large garden full of arched trellisses that intersected to form a small maze. Evelyn navigated as quickly as she could and in the center. They came upon a corpse. Evelyn knelt by the fountain to examine the body. “This was no servant. What was he doing here?”

“This man was a Council of Heralds Emissary,” Vivienne pointed out. “Curious to find him here.”

Evelyn picked up the dagger lying next to the body. “Is that the Chalons family crest?” Dorian gasped. “What have you been up to, Gaspard?”

“Time to have a word with the Duke,” Evelyn sighed.

Just as she was about to stand, a woman's screams pierced the quiet. She shot up and an elven servant came running from the opposite direction from which they had entered. Before she could react, the woman was dead, stabbed from behind. The killer looked very much like one of the Tevinter assassins called the Harlequin. Obviously a woman, she wore a mask and every bit of her skin was covered. She dropped a smoke bomb and disappeared, only to reappear moments later on the balcony three stories up. Evelyn couldn't take a second to worry about the assassin as Venatori agents swarmed them. With three mages working in calculated cooperation, the enemy didn't stand a chance. Once they were down, Evelyn and the others moved to find the entrance to the wing where the assassin had disappeared.

They fought through the Venatori that littered the building and slowly made their way up to the third floor. Again, the enemy fell quickly and Evelyn charged a spell to take out the one that was trying to escape. She had no need for it however, because the runner fell to a knife through the eye.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Briala said calmly as she appeared from the doorway. She stalked down the hallway toward them and ran her hand over the marble of the base of a statue near the balcony. “Shouldn't you be dancing, Inquisitor? What will the Nobility say?”

“No doubt there's a line of people breathlessly waiting for dances with me,” Evelyn said with a roll of her eyes, wondering what Briala's game might be.

“I wouldn't be surprised if there was... You cleaned this place out. It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble. I came down to save or avenge my missing people, but you've beaten me to it. So, the Council of Herald's Emissary in the courtyard... That's not your work is it?”

“He was dead when I arrived,” Evelyn agreed, following Briala out onto the balcony.

“I expected as much. You may have arrived with the Grand Duke, but you don't seem to be doing his dirty work... I knew he was smuggling Chevaliers, but killing a Council Emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins into the palace? Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight.”

“Are you sure he's behind this? He was too... easygoing for a man plotting treason,” Evelyn said with a frown as Briala's large eyes glared at her, her arms crossed.

“Don't let his charm blind you. He's Orlesian. That smile is his mask. I misjudged you Inquisitor. You might just be an ally worth having. What could you do with an army of elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it,” Briala suggested with a grin.

“You know how to make a sales pitch Ambassador, I'll give you that,” Evelyn smirked.

“I do, don't I?” Briala said unfolding her arms. “I know which way the wind is blowing. I'd bet coin you'll be part of the peace talks before the night is over. And if you happened to lean a little bit our way? It... could prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought.”

With that, Briala hopped down from the balcony to the waiting gardens below. Varric chuckled wildly. “Every single major player has tried to bribe you tonight. In Orlais that means you've officially arrived.”

“So much conniving and backstabbing here. It makes me homesick,” Dorian commented wistfully.

They made their way back to the exit where an Inquisition soldier waited to take their weapons. Vivienne checked her over to be certain she was still 'perfect' and then allowed her to make her way back to the ballroom. The herd of Halla statues that she had picked up jangled quietly in her pocket. She passed by Gaspard's trophy room, but there was a group of guards standing outside it. She thought she might find something in there so she introduced herself and after understanding their interest in her, she shamefully sent them to Cullen for a full recounting of the battle at Haven. Then she snuck in the room and shuffled through some documents and collected troop movements inside the castle.

She quickly snuck back out and heard the second bell. She hurried to the ballroom and as soon as she stepped inside, she was blocked by the Grand Duchess. “Inquisitor Trevelyan? We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne De Chalons. Welcome to my party.” She gave another short curtsy as she had before.

“Is there something I can do for you, Your Grace?” Evelyn asked politely while her evidence burned holes in her pockets.

“Indeed you can.” She offered Evelyn a soft smile that Evelyn didn't think was genuine for a second. “I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of... a certain person.” She backed away then turned towards the dance floor, her smile turning coy. “Come. Dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.”

“Very well,” Evelyn accepted graciously, expecting a knife in the side midway through the dance. “Shall we dance, Your Grace?”

Evelyn bowed, her hand extended. Florianne took it and Evelyn swept her into the rest of the dancers. While growing up, before her magic had surfaced, her mother had forced hours of ballroom dancing lessons on her and her brothers. Maxwell had complained constantly about her stepping on his toes because she had always tried to lead. She smiled softly as her instincts took over and she took on the role traditionally held by the male of the pair. A few steps in. Florianne smiled over at her. “You are from the Free Marches, are you not? How much do you know about our little war?”

Evelyn knew Florianne was fishing and she was going to give her nothing. She could play the Game at least that well, if not better. “I assure you, the effects of this war reach far beyond the borders of the Orlesian Empire.”

“Perhaps it does,” the Duchess conceded. “I should not be surprised to find the Empire in the center of everyone's world. It took great effort to arrange tonight's negotiations. Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason. The security of the Empire is at stake. Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”

Evelyn's brow rose and her lips pursed. “Do we both want that, Lady Florianne?”

“I hope we are of one mind on this,” Florianne said, what Evelyn could see of her expression was confused.

“In times like these, it's hard to tell friend from foe, is it not, Your Grace?”

“I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard. And have been everywhere in the palace... You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor... and a matter of concern to some.”

“Am I the curiosity or the concern to _you_ , Your Grace?”

“A little of both, actually,” Florianne admitted. “This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it. Do _you_ even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?”

Evelyn smirked. “An excellent question. I might ask the same of you, Your Grace.”

They danced in silence for a moment, Florianne's eyes trying to read Evelyn's thoughts. She knew she was being facetious, but she had learned the best way to handle the court was to give them nothing. Especially if you didn't trust them. Evelyn did _not_ trust Florianne. Finally, Florianne settled on an answer. “In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone.” It was a good answer. Evelyn thought about her evening and everyone she had spoken to. In spite of everything, Florianne was the only one who made her feel like she was being cagey. Every other player had been as straightforward as they could. “It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight.”

 _Yes, like you._ “I thought 'dangerous machinations' were the National Sport in Orlais,” Evelyn said with a chuckle. She spun Florianne then dipped her towards the ground as the song began to come to an end.

“You have little time,” Florianne warned her as they moved to finish off their dance and bow to each other. “The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes. In the Royal Wing Garden, you will find the Captain of my brother's mercenaries. He knows all Gaspard's secrets. I'm sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming.”

“We'll see what the night has in store, won't we,” Evelyn smirked as she walked off.

So far, all of her evidence was pointing toward Gaspard, but that one conversation with his sister had made Evelyn think that her 'evidence' might not be as clear cut as she thought. She moved off the dance floor and Josephine caught up with her laughing with pride. “You'll be the talk of the court for months! We should take you dancing more often.”

“I'd happily do more dancing... just not with Corypheus,” Evelyn joked as her other two advisers approached.

“I promise not to invite him to your next ball,” Josie said with a smile.

“Were you dancing with Duchess Florianne?” Leliana asked with curiosity. Evelyn had turned down every other dance offer she had received all night.

Cullen scoffed and said, “More importantly, what happened in the servants' quarters. I heard there was fighting.”

“I hope you have good news,” Josephine sighed, her smile faltering. “It appears the peace talks are crumbling.”

“The Grand Duchess tried to convince me Gaspard is the traitor, but I'm not sure I buy it,” Evelyn informed them.

Leliana frowned. “Florianne and her brother are thick as thieves, but she would give him up in an instant to save herself.”

“Then... the attack on the Empress _will_ happen tonight,” Cullen said, his arms dropping from where he'd crossed them over his chest.

“Warning Celene is pointless,” Josie pointed out as if she was repeating herself for the hundredth time. “She needs these talks to succeed. And to flee would admit defeat.”

“Then perhaps we should let her die,” Leliana said coldly.

Evelyn felt her composure slip. “I thought we were here to _stop_ the assassination...” she said through gritted teeth, attempting to reign in her anger.

“Listen to me carefully, Inquisitor. What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen,” Leliana explained. “To foil his plan, the Empire must remain strong. This evening, _someone_ must emerge victorious.”

“And it doesn't need to be Celene, she's right,” Cullen said, scratching his chin nervously.

“Do you realize what you're suggesting, Leliana?” Josephine sounded as stunned as Evelyn was.

“Sometimes, the best path is not the easiest one,” Leliana insisted.

“You're asking me to decide what's best for Orlais?” Evelyn asked her arms crossing in front of her as she silently screamed her displeasure.

“More than that,” Cullen said softly. “Whoever controls the Imperial throne will affect all of Thedas.”

Leliana lifted a finger and pointed it at Evelyn, not scolding, but emphasizing. “You cannot stop Corypheus without a decision. You must support someone, or all is lost.”

“Then we should support Celene!” Josie insisted. “She _is_ the rightful ruler. Why would we say otherwise?”

“Because she led Orlais to this point,” Cullen reminded her dryly. “I say Gaspard, provided his sister is wrong about him.”

“ _I_ would suggest Briala,” Leliana interrupted. “She could bring true peace, not only to the Empire, but also to it's Elves.”

“This is however, _your_ decision, Inquisitor. Not ours,” Josephine said gently.

Evelyn held out a hand to pause the debate. “I can't decide this. Not yet.”

“You must!” Leliana barked. “Even inaction is a decision, Inquisitor.”

“You could speak to Celene in the ballroom, but she won't act. Not without proof,” Josie sighed.

Cullen grunted. “If Gaspard is guilty, he'll admit nothing. If he's innocent, he knows nothing. We need the truth.”

“What did Duchess Florianne tell you?” Leliana asked cautiously.

“She said Gaspard's mercenary Captain is in the Royal Wing. That he knows about the assassination,” Evelyn revealed.

“Which could be a trap,” Cullen spat.

“Or a lead,” Josie countered. “Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing for clues.”

“Then get me access, and in the meantime, get your soldiers into position,” Evelyn ordered, more than ready for the night to be over.

“At once,” Cullen said. His face shifted to worry. “Be careful, Evelyn.”

With a short smile, she nodded and they all separated to prepare. Once again, Leliana had someone gather the others and discreetly hide their weapons near the Royal Wing. The lock had already been picked to allow them access and Evelyn slipped in with the others on her heels. Varric was chuckling as they climbed a short staircase. “Are we going to sneak around to look through the Empress' unmentionables, now? Just how drunk are you, Aurora?”

She couldn't help her laughter joining his as they passed down a hallway. To her left, she noticed another of the Halla doors. There were six empty hollows surrounding this door. No wonder she had been finding the things everywhere. With only four in her pocket, she had to ignore the muffled voice calling from inside. Hopefully she would find a few more before they had to move on. Directly ahead of them was another door and Evelyn was going to ignore it since it was not locked or guarded. Not likely anything important in there. Suddenly, the muffed voice from the Halla door was overshadowed by a piercing scream. Evelyn took off, running for the unguarded door. She wrenched it open and saw another of the Harlequin assassins standing over a young elven woman who was cowering on the floor. Behind the assassin was an open window and Evelyn charged, barreling down on the knife wielding assassin to kick her out the window. The assassin screamed as she fell and Evelyn knelt beside the elf. “Thank you,” the elf said breathlessly.

Evelyn smiled and offered her a hand up. “I hope you're not disappointed I stole your dance partner.”

The woman's laugh was nervous as she stood. “No, not at all. No one's supposed to be here... Briala said... I shouldn't have trusted her.” The woman rubbed her shoulder as if it was paining her.

“All sorts of people tonight are taking advantage of this wing being closed,” Evelyn said with a sigh.

The elf scoffed. “Briala probably knew it was dangerous and sent me anyway. One more embarrassing secret erased... I knew her. Before. When she was Celene's pet. Now she wants to play revolution, but I remember. She was sleeping with the Empress who purged our Alienage.”

“Something like that could destroy Briala,” Evelyn said, stepping back to think. “If it were known.”

“No. Some know she has... a history... with the Empress. But they believe she was just a favored servant. If... If the Inquisition will protect me, I'll tell you everything I know about our 'Ambassador',” the woman offered.

Dorian huffed. “Most Orlesians would say that was Celene's scandal, not Briala's.”

Evelyn nodded. Either way, it was something. “Go to the ballroom. Find Commander Cullen. He'll keep you safe.”

“Thank you,” the woman said again. “Maker protect you, Inquisitor.” She took off quickly and as Evelyn watched her go, she spotted another Halla statuette.

As she picked it up, Varric frowned. “What is with you and those things?”

“They're useful. Trust me,” Evelyn said, pocketing the statue and leaving the room. After a quick peek in the room across the hall, they found another statue and Evelyn led them back to the door that had the muffled voice still calling out.

She carefully placed each statue and the door clicked open just as the one on the balcony outside the library had. She smiled and shrugged at Varric who was nodding his understanding. She pushed the door open and realized by the sheer amount of ponce that filled the room that this had to be the Empress' private quarters. She bypassed all of the décor to climb the four steps that led to the living area that housed a overly ornate bed. Evelyn couldn't help but think that one decoration in particular did not belong. She walked up and stood beside the bed, forcing her eyes to the mans face as she crossed her arms and smirked. “What... happened?”

“It's not what it looks like.” The man shook his head, the helmet there twisting to slip over one eye. “Honestly, I would have preferred if it were what it looks like. The Empress led me to believe I would be... rewarded for betraying the Grand Duke. This... was not what I hoped for.”

Evelyn's eyes flicked downwards over the trussed up man lying naked and bound on the Empress' bed. When her eyes returned to the man's face she said, “I can imagine what you thought your reward would be.”

“Please! I beg you! Don't tell Gaspard,” the man sobbed. “The Empress beguiled me into giving her information about... plans for troop movements in the Palace tonight. She knows everything! The Duke's surprise attack has been countered before it even began.” Evelyn reached up and scratched her neck, wondering what she should do with this man. “She's turned it into a trap. The moment he strikes, she'll have him arrested for treason.”

“Clever Celene,” Vivienne mused. “Even I'm impressed.”

“Oh, Orlesians,” Dorian said with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

Evelyn smiled in amusement at the entire situation. “I'll protect you from Gaspard if you're willing to testify about Celene's trap.”

“I'll do anything! Anything!” he agreed eagerly. Evelyn knelt and called her magic to burn through the ropes that held him to the bed. Once he was free, he grabbed up his clothes and fled.

Varric sighed. “Well, that was... Orlesian.”

Evelyn was slowly forming a plan in her mind, granted that she was right about Florianne. They found their way thorough the maze of the Royal Wing to where the gardens were. Again, there was a raised voice coming from behind a door. “You painted Orlesian, arseholes! When I get out of this, I'll butcher you like the pigs you are!”

Evelyn hurried to push open the door and see what all of the fuss was about. As soon as she entered, her hand reacted. There was a rift nearby. She swung the glowing mark behind her back and entered. Obviously the rift was not active given the collection of soldiers around the garden. She scanned the room and saw Florianne above on a balcony flanked by a number of archers and guards. Below, a man dressed in mercenary garb was tied to a stake in the ground. In between it all, the closed rift hovered, invisible to all but her as her palm tingled. “Inquisitor! What a pleasure! I wasn't certain you'd attend,” Florianne said with delight. “You're such a challenge to read. I had no idea if you'd taken my bait.”

“I fear I'm a bit busy at the moment, if you were looking for a dance partner,” Evelyn retorted.

“Yes, I see that,” Florianne said, her lip curling at Evelyn's obvious aloofness. “Such a pity you did not save one final dance for me. It was kind of you to walk into my trap so willingly. I was so tired of your meddling. Corypheus insisted the Empress die tonight, and I would hate to disappoint him.”

Evelyn's eyes narrowed as the pieces fell into place. “You're not being kind, Florianne. He's got to get used to disappointment.”

“But not today, I think,” she said with a smirk. “In their darkest dreams, no one imagines I would assassinate Celene myself. All I need is to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike. A pity you'll miss the rest of the ball, Inquisitor. They'll be talking of it for years... Kill her and bring me her marked hand. It will make a fine gift for the Master.”

Florianne turned and hurried out of the garden, a few of her guards in tow. The archers took aim and Evelyn quickly rolled as soon as she heard them release. One grazed her arm as she lifted the mark and ripped open the rift. Her companions helped her to her feet as demons poured from the rift to attack both them and Florianne's people. She and her companions were used to fighting demons and while the Duchess' men were slaughtered, they protected the tied up man and fought off the demons. Evelyn waited for a break in the demons and finally reached up to seal the rift for good. Vivienne tended to the bleeding cut on her arm while Dorian untied the confused mercenary.

“Andraste's tits, what was all that?” she man asked, rubbing his wrists. “Were those demons? There aren't any more blasted demons coming, right?”

“Good eye. Those were definitely demons,” Evelyn hissed as Vivienne knitted her wound with her magic.

“Maker bless me! Demons? How could there be demons in the fucking Winter Palace? I knew Gaspard was a bastard, but I didn't think he'd feed me to fucking horrors over a damned bill.”

“Duke Gaspard lured you out here?” Evelyn asked to clarify, crossing her arms.

The man shuffled his feet. “Well, his sister, but it had to come from him, didn't it? All that garbage she was spewing doesn't mean anything. Gaspard had to be the mastermind...”

“You honestly believe you were captured, tied up, and thrown into a death trap... because of a bill?” Evelyn asked with a raised brow.

He shrugged. “When you put it like that, it seems a bit odd. The Duke wanted to move on the palace tonight, but he didn't have enough fancy Chevaliers. So he hired me and my men. He had to offer us triple our usual pay to come to Orlais. Stinking poncy cheesemongers...”

Evelyn resisted the urge to chuckle. “Want a new job? One that pays better? The Inquisition could always use a good mercenary company.” She shrugged.

“You hiring? I'm game. Anything's better than this bullshit. You want me to talk to the Empress, or the court, or sing a blasted song in the Chantry, I'll do it.” He moved off, cursing.

“We need to get to the ballroom before Florianne can act,” Evelyn said, taking off at a jog.

Her people followed behind, and they practically ran back to the ballroom. When they found an entrance, Evelyn paused to catch her breath and then calmly pushed her way inside. Cullen was on her almost immediately. As he fussed as best he could without touching her, she scanned the room, both listening to him and searching for Florianne. “Thank the Maker you're back! The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?”

She patted his arm as she noticed the royalty and nobles gathering. “Wait here, Cullen. I'm going to have a word with the Grand Duchess.”

He frowned. “What? There's no time! The Empress will begin her speech any moment!” he hissed as she handed her staff to him and adjusted her coat.

“Trust me,” she whispered. Her plan was in place. If she could help it, no one else would die that night. She straightened her shoulders and marched proudly across the dance floor to approach the landing where she had first greeted the Empress. Florianne, Briala and Gaspard were gathered there and above Celene stood regally, awaiting the court's quiet. Evelyn stepped boldly forward and pitched her own voice for all to hear. “We owe the court one more show, Your Grace.”

Florianne's posture tensed before she turned to see Evelyn standing below, her hands clasped behind her back. “Inquisitor.”

Evelyn ascended the stairs as Briala and Gaspard backed off, leaving Florianne alone in the middle of the landing. “The eyes of every noble in the empire are upon us, Your Grace. Remember to smile,” she taunted, as the whispering and gasping at the scandal fell to a dull roar. “This is your party. You wouldn't want them to think you had lost control.”

“Who would not be delighted to speak with you, Inquisitor?” Florianne said, her voice wavering as she backed away from Evelyn who continued to approach her.

“I seem to recall you saying, 'All I needed was to keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike'.” Florianne tried to play innocent, but her eyes were flicking in all directions, hunting for an escape. Evelyn began to circle her like a shark after blood. “When your archers failed to kill me in the garden, I feared you wouldn't save me this last dance. It's so easy to lose your good graces. You even framed your brother for the murder of a Council Emissary.” Gaspard shook his head in anger as the truth was revealed. “It was an ambitious plan. Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds... all your enemies under one roof.”

“This is very entertaining, but you do not imagine anyone believes your wild stories?” Florianne asked, her voice still uncertain.

“That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin,” Celene added, her own frown evident even with the mask.

“Gaspard?” Florianne pleaded to her brother next. “You cannot believe this! You know I would never...” Before she could finish, he dismissively waved his hand and turned with Briala to ascend the stairs and join Celene. “Gaspard?!” Florianne was now backing up from the two chevaliers that were coming towards her.

“You lost this fight ages ago, Your Grace. You're just the last to find out,” Evelyn said, waving her hand for the chevaliers to seize the now sobbing Duchess as she fell to her knees. Once she had been dragged off, Evelyn glanced up at the Empress. “Your Imperial Majesty, I think we should speak in private, elsewhere.”

The Empress nodded softly and Evelyn followed the three contenders for the throne onto the Empress' private balcony where they had held the peace talks. Briala was the first to speak, even before they reached the door. “Your sister attempted regicide in front of the entire court, Gaspard!”

“You're the spymaster,” he retorted. “If anyone knew this atrocity was coming, it was you.”

“You don't deny your involvement.” Briala pointed out.

“I do deny it! I knew nothing of Florianne's plans! But you... you knew it all and did nothing,” he accused. Evelyn began to pace back and forth between them, her hands clasped behind her back, listening to the accusations flying.

Briala snorted and crossed her arms. “I don't know which is better. That you think I'm all-seeing or that you're trying so hard to play innocent and failing.”

“Enough,” Celene inserted herself. “We will not bicker while Tevinter plots against our nation! For the safety of the empire, I will have answers!”

Evelyn stepped further into the circle they had formed. “Every one of you is implicated. You all conspired to allow this to happen.”

“That's a bold claim, Inquisitor,” Celene said, her eyes narrowing. “Are you prepared to defend it?”

Evelyn took a deep breath. The evidence was on her side. All she needed to do was mold them to her will. “Gaspard brought hired mercenaries into the palace for a coup. I have the word of his Captain.”

“Oh, Gaspard,” Briala scolded. “So predictable. Brutality is your only talent.”

“You don't hold the moral high ground, Briala. You _did_ murder Ambassadors and forge documents...” Evelyn reminded her.

“So what if I did? Take me down, and elves will riot in every city in the Empire,” she threatened.

“They won't.” Evelyn had confidence. “Not when they learn you were sleeping with the woman who purged Halamshiral's Alienage...” Then her eyes turned on the Empress. “And Celene knew of Gaspard's coup and let it go far enough to hang him for treason.”

“You've made your point,” Celene said in defeat. “What do you want?”

“If you don't want your dirty secrets revealed, you'll all do as I say and work together,” Evelyn demanded, feeling dirty even as she suggested it. But at least everyone was still alive.

“You realize this can only end in disaster!” Briala said with shock. They each glanced at each other, realizing that Evelyn had outplayed them at their own Game. Finally, an agreement was reached and Celene moved to address the court. “I cannot believe you want to make a speech. This is foolish.”

“We have no choice,” Celene assured the elf. “The nobility requires an answer for what happened.”

“Unless you want to pretend the war was all a dream? That would go over well,” Gaspard said with a sarcastic grin. “No more dithering. We make the cut swift and clean. Kindest to all of us.”

As they walked into the ballroom, the entire court had gathered in a tight group on the dance floor. Celene allowed them a moment to cheer as she and Gaspard stood side by side, Briala hanging back. “Lords and Ladies of the court, we are pleased to announce that an accord has been reached. Our cousin Gaspard will now hold a place of honor in our cabinet.”

As the crowd began to talk, Gaspard stepped forward. “Friends, we assembled are the leaders of the empire! We must set an example for all Thedas! We cannot be at war with each other while the Fade itself challenges our borders.”

Celene noticed Gaspard's subtle placing of himself ahead of her and silently moved to stand ahead of him. “We must stand united, or surely we will fall alone!”

Evelyn took her chance to rile up the people against Corypheus. “We will save Thedas from calamity, but only _together_ may we accomplish this!” Her words seemed to echo between Gaspard and the Empress who in synchronicity moved back together to stand side by side. It was going to take some getting used to for them to be on the same page.

“We will heal our wounded country. A long road of reconstruction lies before us, but tonight, we celebrate the arrival of peace. Let the festivities commence!” Celene announced.

Among the cheers and general uproar, Evelyn backed up and slipped from the ballroom onto one of the smaller side balconies. She breathed in a long, deep breath, glad that everything had been settled. She leaned on the rail and gazed out over the Palace grounds. The cool breeze of the night ruffled her hair and the stray strands tickled her nose, bringing the scent of lavender to her. The rip in her sleeve where the arrow had grazed her, flapped gently, reminding her how pissed Josie was going to be that she had ruined the coat.

She wasn't certain how long she stood there, her mind blank and her heart steady as she unwound from the mayhem. It was long enough that when she felt the pull of another mage's magic and she straightened, her back was stiff. Morrigan approached her, the amulet at her neck shimmering in the moonlight. “The Orlesian Nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them? Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? 'Tis most fickle after all your efforts on their behalf.” She was grinning as she paused beside Evelyn.

Evelyn snorted. “I would have stayed, but the punch ran dry. Scandalous!”

Morrigan's laugh was short as she began to fiddle with the wrist of her glove on her left hand. “Indeed? Let us see if you take this piece of news as poorly... By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wishes to offer you any and all aid... including mine. Congratulations.”

“Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan,” Evelyn said gratefully. Morrigan's help had been invaluable, so far.

“A most gracious response. I shall meet you at Skyhold,” Morrigan said with a short tip of her head before sauntering out.

Evelyn went back to leaning on the rail, her back stiff and her palms flat. A familiar voice lessened the knot in her stomach. “There you are! Everyone's been looking for you.” He was sympathetic and concerned as he came to lean on her right. “Things have calmed down for the moment. Are you alright?”

She glanced at him, noticing the stray hair that had fallen out of his careful style, just like when she had first met him. She smiled sweetly and brushed it back into place with her fingers. “I'm just worn out. Tonight has been... very long.”

“For all of us,” he agreed. “I'm glad it's over.” He lifted his hand and began to slowly rub over her back. “I know it's foolish, but I was worried for you tonight.” She reached over and laid her own hand over the one he still had resting on the rail and squeezed it in gratitude. He was quiet for a moment as she lost herself in his touch. “I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask...” He pulled back, a grin lifting the side of his mouth as he bowed and offered her his hand. “May I have this dance, my Lady?”

A genuine smile quirked her lips. “Of course! I thought you didn't dance.” She took his hand, he pulled her against him and they began to slowly move in a simple four step circle.

Her cheek rested on his chest, for once, his armor not blocking the gentle beating of his heart. She closed her eyes and listened as his voice rumbled through her. “For you, I'll try.” He was so comforting, so warm and relaxing that the evening began to catch up with her. She started at the sound of his voice speaking her name. His tone was light and teasing. “Evelyn, are you falling asleep?”

“No,” she insisted, pulling briefly away so she could glance at him, an embarrassed flush coming to her cheeks.

He chuckled and took her chin in his hand. “Let's get you out of here. When was the last good night's rest you've had?”

“Hmm... Before the Conclave?” she guessed with an amused grin.

His knuckles grazed her chin slowly as he studied her face. “You were brilliant in there,” he offered as his hand made it into her hair, his fingers brushing the loose strands from her face. She leaned into his touch and he pulled her closer. Their lips brushed and an excited titter from the entrance to the balcony dragged them apart. They each took a step back, Evelyn's reddening face turning towards the giggling. The woman stood with her fingers over her own lips. Her skin was dark and Evelyn sighed as she recognized her. “Yvette!” Cullen growled and the girl took off.

“That was Josie's sister, right?” Evelyn asked, her racing heart slowing.

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, thankfully. Perhaps we should keep a lower profile until we leave the Palace.”

She nodded her agreement, biting her lip. “I'm going to go find an escape route then get some sleep.”

“Goodnight, Evelyn,” he said with a sigh.

 


	11. Skyhold, Sand, and Some Time Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen takes Evelyn away in between missions, but things don't go completely as planned.

When they returned to Skyhold, Evelyn barely had the chance to bathe and change into some more comfortable clothes before there was something else causing an uproar on her doorstep. She was making her way down to see Cassandra and get a report on things in her absence when she spotted a Chantry cleric arguing with Josephine. “The matter is urgent, Lady Josephine!”

“I am well aware of that, Revered Mother,” Josie said, her most diplomatic stance stiffening her back.

“We will need them to return to Val Royeaux as soon as possible. There are ceremonies... ordinations! Maker's mercy.” The woman sounded exasperated.

“That's quite impossible at the moment. However, I will see to this matter as soon as possible,” Josephine attempted to calm the conversation to a more civil tone.

“My Lady Inquisitor!” the woman called having spotted her trying to turn and escape. Whatever the issue, she didn't want to be involved. She sighed and turned back around “Please, may I have a word with you?”

“Just when you've solved one crisis, another springs up to take it's place,” she said with a deep breath, descending the stairs to join them.

“I am sorry to place this burden on your shoulders, but you are the only one who can help,” the Mother insisted as Josie tried to cover a scowl. “With the political turmoil put to rest, our minds turn to a single question. The next Divine. We cannot answer it without the left and right hands of Divine Justinia V.”

Josephine sighed. “I have already told you, Revered Mother: Lady Leliana and Seeker Cassandra cannot be spared from their duties.”

“But surely with the support of the Empire, the Inquisition will not be harmed by the loss of just two souls?” the Mother pleaded.

“These aren't just any two people!” Evelyn said in shock. “They're key members of the Inquisition!”

“For the sake of Thedas, we must ask you to make this sacrifice...”

Josephine intervened. “This will have to be settled later. The Inquisitor has only just returned and has important business to attend to. You must excuse us, Revered Mother.” The Mother glanced between the two of them with irritation before giving a curt bow and leaving. “Don't let them detract from your victory at Halamshiral. The support of the Empire should make our search for the Grey Wardens easier. Varric is eager to help his friend Hawke.” Evelyn accepted Josephine's praise and then continued on to where she had originally intended to go.

Cassandra was glaring intently at Mother Giselle when Evelyn walked into the Armory. Mother Giselle glanced at Evelyn and sighed. “Will you not consider it, Lady Cassandra? The Clerics are still sequestered. If no one steps forward, they will debate until...”

“And you think _I_ could make them agree?” Cassandra snapped with a swift shake of her head. In the act, she noticed Evelyn approaching and continued. “I have heard enough for one day, Mother Giselle.”

“Talk to her, your Worship,” Mother Giselle asked of Evelyn as she passed her to leave.

When she was gone, Evelyn turned to face Cassandra with a smirk and crossed arms. “The fun never ends in Skyhold, does it?” She settled into her hips.

Cassandra was half glaring and half smirking herself. “ 'The Inquisitor was _hilarious_ ', That's what they'll say one day, you watch.” She sighed. “I assume you've heard that Leliana and I are both candidates to be the next divine. Because of what happened at Halamshiral, of course. The Empire favors you, thus everyone close to you. So now the Chantry bandies our names about without even asking us first.”

“How can you and Leliana be candidates? You're not even priests,” Evelyn asked curiously.

“It's not without precedent,” Cassandra explained. “Amara the third was sister to the Emperor, and Galatea a commoner. Leliana and I were, at least, part of the Chantry hierarchy. It would be accepted.”

“If you don't want it, then tell them so,” Evelyn said with a shrug, knowing that was likely the farthest thing from Cassandra's mind.

The seeker sighed and led her outside toward the practice dummies. “Surely, it was never meant to be like this. The Chantry, the Circle of Magi, the Templars... This cannot be what they intended when it all began.” She paused beneath a tree, using the shade to keep the sun from her eyes. “The Chantry should provide faith. _Hope_. Instead, it cannot veer from it's course, even in the face of certain death.”

“I'm surprised to hear you, of all people, say that,” Evelyn said softly.

“Oh?” Cassandra asked, her eyebrows rising. “Am I not the same woman who declared the Inquisition against the Chantry's wishes? In all my years as a seeker, I did what I was told. My faith demanded it. But now, my faith demands something else... that I see with better eyes.”

“Many extraordinary things have happened to get us to this point,” Evelyn reminded her.

“I'm not so certain. I think this has been a long time coming... Did you know Varric is Andrastian? Oh, he blasphemes with every second breath, but deep down, he believes. His heart is virtuous. But he would never step foot in a Chantry. It should be the first place to which the virtuous turn. It needs to change. Perhaps I must be the one to change it.”

Evelyn was now curious. She raised a brow questioningly. “What would you change about the Chantry?”

“The Circle of Magi has it's place, but it needs reform,” she said quickly. “Let the mages govern themselves, with our help. Let the Templars stand not as the jailers of mages, but as protectors of the innocent. We must be vigilant, but we must also be compassionate to all peoples of Thedas, human or no. _That_ is what I would change.”

“So, this is your new crusade?” Evelyn asked knowing that Cassandra would beat her head against any thing she set her mind to until it molded to her will.

“I've agreed to nothing yet,” she said with a sneer.

“And if the Chantry calls on you?” she asked.

“Then I will do whatever I can, for as long as I can.” She sighed. “I suppose I should not be so concerned. The Clerics speak my name for now, nothing more. For now, restoring order and stopping Corypheus remain our priority.”

 

Evelyn was signing her name to probably the billionth piece of parchment that day. She dropped her quill and pressed her fingers to her temples. She was beginning to realize why Cullen always looked so tired. When it wasn't your only job to do endless paperwork, the task became tedious and lengthy. He had handed most of the recruit training over to his captain, but he still liked to get in there himself and be sure everything was running smoothly. She had wasted hours the previous day hovering out of view by the training ring, watching him work. There had been a lot of sweat and some shirtlessness involved on his part. Even though that had been distracting, she had told herself she was researching templar techniques so she could be better prepared to fight them. At least that is what she reported to Leliana when she was caught shamelessly biting her bottom lip raw.

She sighed and moved to pick the quill back up, flexing her fingers before she did so. She had left her door open so she could accept any excuse to escape the confines of the dark indoors. Before she reached the quill, soft footsteps drew her attention to the stairway. Josephine crested the landing and set her eyes on Evelyn. “Hey, Josie. Did you need me for something?” She offered a warm smile.

The ambassador shuffled her feet and sighed. “I was actually hoping we might revisit the fact that you have yet to sit in judgment of any of our prisoners. The cells will soon reach capacity.”

Evelyn pressed her lips together and folded her hands on top of her unfinished pile. “I'm not going to get out of this, am I?”

Josephine huffed. “I should think not, Inquisitor.”

Evelyn sighed. “Fine. Make the preparations. I'll be down in an hour.”

She went back to her papers and then slowly shuffled her way downstairs to arrive at the throne on time. An audience had gathered and she felt awkward as she carefully stepped up to sit gently in the symbol of authority. Josephine was waiting patiently, clipboard in hand and as soon as Evelyn's butt touched the padding of the seat, she cleared her throat. “You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter. Ferelden has given him to us as acknowledgment of your aid.” As Josie spoke, Alexius was brought forward, his hands bound and his head hung in defeat. She was suddenly sorry that she had waited so long. “The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination... on your own life, no less. Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former Magister as you see fit.”

Evelyn's eyes scoured the broken man, wondering if he knew that his son had died. She glanced around the hall, realizing that she was likely supposed to say something now. Her eyes fell briefly on Dorian who nodded. “Remind me. What's the precedent for nearly ripping apart time at the seems?”

Alexius finally looked up with defiance, a sneer on his face. “I couldn't save my son. Do you think my fate matters to me?”

Evelyn sat back in the throne, crossing her ankle over her knee and steepling her fingers, trying to seem aloof. Josephine spoke next. “Will you offer nothing more in your defense?”

“You've won nothing. The people you saved, the acclaim you've gathered... You will lose it all in the storm to come. Render your judgment, Inquisitor,” Alexius spat.

Evelyn rose a single brow, an idea swirling into her mind that brought a smile to her face. “Your magic was theoretically _impossible_ , Alexius. I could use people like you.” She reached out with a scolding finger. “You sentence is to serve, under guard, as a researcher on all things magical for the Inquisition.”

Alexius sighed and Evelyn's eyes fell on Dorian again who was smiling widely, appreciative of her leniancy. “No execution? Very well.” Alexius was taken away and Josephine began to announce the next prisoner.

“Mayor Gregory Dedrick of Crestwood is present for betraying his own constituents. He confesses that ten years ago, he flooded Old Crestwood to kill refugees and villagers touched by the blight. The mayor claims it was to spare the rest of Crestwood, but we only have his word.”

Evelyn sat forward, her eyes fixated on the man whose life was in her hands. “He's pleading guilty while saying he's not. Which is it?”

He looked up, terrified and defensive. “There's no cure for the blight, but I couldn't convince anyone to leave a sick child or husband behind.”

Josie gasped. “So you herded the infected into one place and flooded Old Crestwood? Were no innocents caught in the waters?”

His answer came hesitantly. “Nearly everyone in the village had the blight, I swear it! Have mercy. I couldn't tell the survivors I'd drowned their own families to save them. I... I couldn't.”

Evelyn knew that killing the man was mercy. He had to live with what he had done. That was punishment enough. “You lied for ten years about your crime, then fled after confessing your guilt. For avoiding justice, you are exiled from Ferelden. I doubt the crown will disagree.”

The mayor sighed heavily. “I knew your coming meant the end, one way or another.”

The guards who had brought him in moved to undo his bindings and send him on his way. Then the next prisoner was brought in. Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat as the broken Duchess slumped toward the dais to stand. She was a wilted shell of herself. The kohl that had lined her eyes streaked down her cheeks and her once beautiful gown was dingy and tattered. “I do not believe a reminder is necessary for this accused. Her capture and disgrace could not have been more public,” Josie said. “Grand Duchess Florianne De Chalons, although her titles are among the dignities already at risk of forfeiture. You spared her life, despite her treachery, what becomes of it now falls to you.”

“Out of your element, Florianne?” Evelyn asked again taking a relaxed position. “Welcome to the Inquisition. _My_ party.”

The duchess managed to pull her spine straighter and he puffed out an uncaring sound as if this were all beneath her. “Despite her posture,” Josie pointed out. “Lady Florianne _has_ acknowledged your authority.”

“Should I curse you on behalf of the Elder One? I realize he had no intention of honoring the concordats I manipulated,” Florianne snipped. “Do as you must. I respect your mastery of the Game, even as I despise your victory. Celene does not know her fortune.”

If Florianne liked her mastery of the game so much, she could put her to use. “She remains a creature of formality and opportunity. We have use for both. Grand Duchess, Josephine will see that your wiles profit the Inquisition. Don't disappoint.”

The Duchess chuckled in appreciation. “One must remember that the Game is never truly over, Your Worship.”

When the Duchess was seen out, Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief, believing that was the last of her prisoners until Josie held up a hand with a smirk on her face. “This was a surprise. After you returned from the bogs, we discovered this man attacking... the building. With a... goat.” Evelyn sat forward in interest, her brows raised and assuming Josie was having her on. Lo and behold, two guards escorted a large man draped in so many furs that Evelyn could barely see his face. His cowl was adorned with two sets of horns and he looked at her in amusement. “Chief Movran the Under. He feels slighted by the killing of his Avvar tribesman... Who repeatedly attacked you first. What should we do with him? Where... should he go?”

Evelyn cocked her head and her mouth fell open. “You answered the death of your clan... with a goat?”

The man stepped forward and laughed throatily. “A courtroom? Unnecessary! You killed my idiot son, and I answered, as is my custom, by smacking your holdings with goats' blood.”

Evelyn tipped her head at Josie who shrugged. “Don't look at me...”

“No foul,” the man continued. “He meant to murder Tevinters, but got feisty with your Inquisition. A redheaded mother guarantees a brat! Do as you've earned, Inquisitor. My clan yields. My remaining boys have brains still in their heads!” He laughed loudly again.

Evelyn sat back and sighed deeply, tugging her tunic down and straightening her belt. “It seems our conflict was accidental, Chief Movran, but it can't be repeated. I banish you and your clan... with as many weapons as you can carry... to Tevinter.”

His laughter filled the entire main hall and Evelyn couldn't help her own smirk. “My idiot boy got us something after all!” She also began feeling better about killing the man. Perhaps not in the manner which she had, but a small weight lifted as his father strutted happily from her hall with a new purpose. She glanced at Josephine who nodded dismissively.

Evelyn got up from the throne, glad to have not needed to kill anyone. Perhaps judgment was her calling. Now that she was finished with her paperwork and all of that mess, she decided it was time to go and visit with Cullen to see if she could pry him away from work for some dinner. Halfway through the hall, Mother Giselle stopped her. “My Lady Inquisitor. It is good of you to speak with me. I have news regarding one of your... companions. The Tevinter.”

“Is that a note of distaste I detect, Mother Giselle?” Evelyn asked cautiously.

“I... admit his presence here makes me uncomfortable, Inquisitor, but my feelings are of no importance... I have been in contact with his family, House Pavus, out of Quarinus. Are you familiar with them?” Mother Giselle asked.

“Familiar? We've never met if that's what you're suggesting,” Evelyn said, her brow raised in suspicion.

“I'm suggesting nothing. I'm only curious whether you know of his... situation,” she was wringing her hands. “The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid. They've asked to arrange a meeting, quietly, without telling him. They fear it's the only way he'll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I'd hoped...”

Evelyn held up her palm. “If you think I'm going to trick Dorian into meeting his family...”

Mother Giselle sighed deeply. “I feared you might say that... The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe Tavern to take him onward. If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there. I pray you change your mind, Inquisitor. Perhaps their letter will persuade you.” Mother Giselle pressed the parchment into Evelyn's hand and patted it gently. “If there is any chance of success in this, it behooves us to act.”

Mother Giselle took her leave and Evelyn took the letter out to the garden to sit in the sunshine as she read it over.

_Your Reverence,_

_I understand that you feel inadequate to the task of bringing Dorian to a secret meeting. Even in the asking, I find it difficult to believe myself. Considering my son has rebuffed all contact, this is the only way. I know him... He would be too proud to come if he knew... even just to talk. That is all we wish to do. The thought of Dorian in the south, placing himself in the path of such danger, alarms us more than I can express._

_If this somehow succeeds, we have a family retainer at the Vandral Hills watching for Dorian's arrival. He will bring the boy to us, somewhere private. If Dorian utterly refuses to go with him, it ends there...and there is nothing we can do. We are at our wits end._

_Graciously yours,_

_Magister Halward of House Pavus_

Evelyn sighed, dropping the letter to her lap. She had to tell Dorian. He was her best friend. He deserved to make this choice himself. When she looked up from her hands, she noticed a finely dressed young boy no older than 9 with dark brown hair and a curious expression on his pale face. His doublet was adorned with the symbol of a griffin nearly identical to the one worn by the Grey Wardens. He cocked his head and smiled at her. When she returned the expression and lifted her marked hand to wave at him, he watched her intently. “You're the Inquisitor!” he said in awe, his voice slightly nasally. “I thought you'd be scarier. Mother said you were scary.”

Evelyn chuckled a bit as she lowered her hand and crossed her legs, allowing the mark to dangle idly from her knee. “Some people seem to think I'm the most frightening thing in the world.”

His expression turned sad. “Mother says they would think the same about me if they knew. Mother never told me the Inquisitor was a mage.”

Evelyn cocked her head, her own curiosity piqued. “If you can sense magic, never become a templar.”

“I can't,” he said hugging himself. “The lyrium gives me terrible nightmares.”

Just then, Morrigan approached, her gait slow and sensual. Her ball gown had been replaced by long black leather pants underneath a hide skirt that was made of strips of leather that hung at different lengths. Her top left little to the imagination, her modesty barely kept by a string tying together two bits of cloth. She still wore the amulet she had at the Palace and draped carelessly over her shoulders and wrapped around her waist was a reddish-purple bolt of fabric that seemed to simply function as a hood if she required it. Her arms were covered asymmetrically, reminding Evelyn of Hawke's robes. The mage crossed her arms and said gently, “Kieran, are you bothering the Inquisitor?”

“Of course not. Did you _see_ what's on her hand, Mother?” he asked, gesturing to Evelyn's mark.

“I _did_ see.” Morrigan turned her head to smile proudly at Evelyn then returned her attention to her son. “ 'Tis time to return to your studies, little man.” He sighed heavily and with a wave of Morrigan's hand he turned and trudged off. Morrigan watched him go and then chuckled. “My son. Never where you expect him to be, naturally.”

“I didn't know you had a son,” Evelyn said conversationally.

“Why would you?” Morrigan asked. “I take great pains to not let my own reputation affect him in any way. To most in the Imperial Court, he is simply a quiet and well-spoken lad. Perhaps the heir of some distant family. But he goes where I go. Worry not, Inquisitor... Kieran is a curious boy, but seldom troublesome.”

Evelyn had a thought. “Will his father be joining us as well?”

Morrigan gave a short shake of her head, her hair fluttering around her face. “I have raised Kieran on my own for quite some time now, as was my preference from the start. So 'tis but the two of us, Inquisitor. Your fortress is a large place, and you will scarce notice our presence.”

Why was Morrigan so concerned that Evelyn thought they would get in the way? “There's something rather... unusual about him,” she fished, curious about the boy who if people knew something about him they would be scared.

“There is. He is a special lad,” Morrigan said simply, but not without a prideful smile full of a tenderness that looked out of place on her. “It falls to me to protect him from anything and anyone that mean him ill. Most of all, he must be protected from myself. No one could harm him more than I...” She changed the subject with a swiftness that behooved Evelyn to drop the subject. “To think, until recently this place stood decrepit, occupied only by the desperate and the lost. Now it is party to events that threaten to shake the world. I wonder if it is pleased?”

“It sounds like you've heard of Skyhold before,” Evelyn said, leaning back against the bench, her foot tapping lightly in the air. Skyhold always made her feel contented. If Morrigan knew about it, she would like to hear about it.

Morrigan turned to join her on the bench, as far to the opposite side as she could get. Her knees were pulled together, her back stiff and her palms rested on her knees. “This fortress was built upon the remains of a site holy to the ancient elves. They called it, Tarasyl'an... 'the place where the sky is kept'. It is said that from here, they reached up to the heavens to bring them down to rest. They abandoned it, as did the humans who came after them. Bones laid upon bones, silent until your arrival.”

“We were lucky to have found it when we did,” Evelyn said, peace flowing over her as her eyes slid over the gardens. She smiled warmly.

“Fate is often mistaken for luck, as Mother is fond of saying,” Morrigan said, her hands relaxing some as she smiled. “The magic in this place has seeped into the stones, protecting it from darkness. Those who let it fall to ruin did not know what they possessed. You, I think, shall do it justice.” That was high praise coming from the powerful woman sitting before her. “You were kind to welcome my aide, Inquisitor, even knowing as little of me as you did.” Morrigan's fingers twined around each other, fidgeting as if she expected rejection. “I will do my best to aid your cause with all the knowledge at my disposal. This I swear to you.”

“I appreciate whatever help you can give us,” Evelyn said, resisting the urge to try and comfort the woman. She could tell it would not be accepted.

Morrigan sighed. “Some might think Corypheus a madman for seeking godhood. Yet one must ask, what _were_ the Old Gods? What secrets of theirs did the Ancient Magisters know? What I fear... What _all_ should fear... is not that Corypheus believes he could succeed. 'Tis that he actually may.” With that, she stood and left Evelyn alone on the bench.

Evelyn glanced around, sitting forward and then remembering the letter still clutched in her hand. He lifted it to read it again before prying herself from the beauty of the garden and back inside the main hall. Solas' work on the Solarium had come along nicely. The entire circumference had been painted from top to bottom in colorful murals depicting images of the Inquisition's deeds. Evelyn could almost feel the emotion behind the art and she greeted Solas briefly as she passed through to head up to Dorian's favorite wingback chair in the library.

He sat in the chair, his legs crossed and his nose buried in a book as usual. When she cleared her throat, he looked up and grinned widely at her. “The Inquisitor's work is never done, I see,” he said, indicating the parchment in her hand.

“Dorian, there's a letter you need to see,” she said, lifting the letter to hold it in front of her in both hands.

“A letter?” He set the book aside and rose gracefully from the chair not uncrossing his ankles until he was standing. He strutted over to her. “Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan Dowager?”

“Not quite,” she said, biting her lip. “It's from your father.”

“From my father?” His expression changed to one of extreme annoyance, bordering on mild distaste. “I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?” He crossed his arms.

“A meeting,” she almost whispered.

“Show me this letter.” He plucked the paper from her fingers and she suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands. She rubbed them on her thighs awkwardly as his eyes skimmed over the letter, rage bubbling to the surface of his features. He snorted noisily. “ 'I know my son'? What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble.” He shook the paper at her. “This is so typical! I'm willing to bet this 'retainer' is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

“You think your father would actually do that?” she asked timidly as she felt his magic warming the area they were standing in.

He took a deep breath and the temperature cooled. “No... although I wouldn't put it past him. Let's go. Let's meet this so-called 'family retainer'. If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. You're good at that.” She flinched. “If it's not, I send the man back to my father with the message that he can stick his alarm in his 'wit's end'.”

“I think you should meet with this retainer... Find out what your family wants,” Evelyn suggested, her voice soft.

“I didn't ask what you thought, did I?” Dorian snapped. The question shot a dagger through her. He seemed to regret what he'd said almost as it was slipping from his mouth. His anger withdrew from his face and remorse replaced it as he approached a step closer to her while she hugged herself. “That... was unworthy. I apologize.” He sighed and looked back down at the letter. “There'd be no harm in hearing what this man of my father's has to say. If I don't like it, however, I want to leave.”

“I'm having trouble imagining a scenario where you'd like anything he said.”

“So am I, but who knows? Maybe my father has something new in mind...” he turned and flopped back down in his chair, crumbling the letter and tossing it to the floor beside him. He was draped casually, but she knew him well enough that he was anything but relaxed.

She wrung her hands. “Are you going to be alright?”

He graced her with a sincere smile, even if there was concern behind it. “Go ahead, sweetheart. I'll be fine. I'm sure your strapping young templar could use a break right about now.”

She offered him an apologetic smile and left him to his thoughts.

 

“There you are!” Cullen greeted her, his mouth curved up in a lopsided smile.

She approached him, her hips swaying lightly. “Were you waiting for me?” She asked teasingly.

“Yes... I mean, no...” he sputtered, his smile being replaced by a nervous pursing of his lips.

She chuckled sweetly and crossed her arms. “Oh good, I've kept and _not_ kept you waiting...”

He sighed and shuffled his feet. “Let me start over.”

“By all means,” she offered holding her hand out, palm up. She loved the small flush that tinted his cheeks.

“We have some dealings in Ferelden, just a day trip. I was hoping you might accompany me. When you can spare the time, of course,” he managed to blurt out.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, her brow rising in suspicion at his fidgeting.

“What? No!” He assured her, taking her hands in his. “I would rather explain there, if you wish to go.”

She studied him, his expression giving nothing away. She wasn't due to leave for the Western Approach for another 3 days. She nodded, slowly, her curiosity getting the best of her. “I believe there's time now.”

His smile returned and he squeezed her hands. “I will make the necessary arrangements.”

 

They rode south out of the Frostbacks, just the two of them. Cullen carried a satchel on his horse that he needed to deliver to the town where he'd grown up. She was curious why the Commander was taking the time to personally handle this, but she didn't ask. She was just glad to be away from Skyhold and alone with him. They certainly needed quality time. Her Forder lagged slightly behind his large war horse, taking chances here and there to nibble at bushes and grass in his path. For once, she didn't scold him. There was no need to break the silence as she breathed in the crisp mountain air. Cullen also looked contented to be away. She watched him ride, his shield flicking bolts of light in her direction with the pace of his horse's stride. He broke her from her reverie, his head turning to glance in her direction. The glimpse of his profile momentarily stole her breath as he sighed. “I know you aren't from Ferelden, but I will always think of it as home. The countryside is so beautiful. Don't you think? I'd be perfectly happy never again setting foot in the Winter Palace.” He paused and when she remained silent to allow him to continue, he sighed. “It wasn't the gossip and backstabbing... I know what the game entails, but the indifference to it all...”

“At least there was dancing,” she reminded him, still frustrated at having been interrupted by Josephine's little sister.

He chuckled, his voice echoing sweetly through the trees. A fennec paused on the road ahead to regard them before scurrying away. “Or an attempt at it, anyway...”

“I thought you did well.” So well that he had lulled her into almost falling asleep after the exhausting evening.

“I'm grateful for your poor taste in dance partners,” he smirked, turning back to face the front of his saddle.

She urged her horse up closer to his. If they kept talking at that angle, he would likely get a cramp in his neck. Her thoughts were drawn to the choices ahead of her and the possible futures that could come to pass should either Leliana of Cass actually be named the next Divine. She was quiet for a moment and then bit her lip. She knew of his background, but she was unsure of his current opinion. “May I ask you something?”

“Always,” he agreed, regarding her with a raised brow.

“Do you still regret the man you became after leaving Ferelden?” she asked, since he'd brought up Ferelden.

“After the Ferelden Circle, I thought all mages were like the ones there. Knight-Commander Meredith's methods were harsh, but they kept people safe,” he answered, shifting in his saddle.

She frowned. “You've said Meredith was unstable.”

“She was my Knight-Commander. I had no reason to distrust her. She wasn't wrong about the Blood Mages in Kirkwall. Meredith encouraged my anger towards mages. But there was only so far I would go, and she knew that too. I was her second in command, but she kept decisions from me... Those I would question. I believed she was serving the city. I never _thought_ to question her. Not until it was too late.”

“I hope you find the Inquisition's leadership more agreeable,” she teased.

He grinned widely and chuckled. “Forgive my lack of professional decorum, but very much so. The Inquisition is my chance to atone. I will not see it fail.”

“The Inquisition won't last forever. What will you do when this is over?” she asked him, having thought about this same thing for herself many times.

He frowned, his head cocking to regard her. “To be honest, I hadn't given it much thought until recently. I'm not used to having so many... possibilities.”

“Do you think templars should cease to exist?” She broached her question timidly, not wanting to ruin their time together.

“No,” he said simply. She breathed a sigh as the question didn't seem to bother him. “I may have chosen to leave that life, but I respect those who remain. Magic ungoverned could tear the world apart. It's doing so now. Templars are trained and able to confront such dangers.”

“What would you suggest?” she asked with genuine interest. Cullen had a sharp mind and she wondered if he had any ideas.

“Some call the Circle a prison... that can only breed resentment.” He glanced at her, his eyes flicking towards her staff very briefly. “Perhaps opportunities to work outside the Circle? A mixed military service, or healers' clinics with templar support. And there must be a safer way for templars to leave.” He looked away before continuing. “Templars can lose their memories to Lyrium. Some call it a gift... to forget the failed Harrowings, the demons... Some atrocities haunt me still, but to lose what good I can recall... I nearly lost my mind once... It is no gift.”

She allowed him a moment to breathe as his eyes closed. She knew sharing these things was something he only did with her. The pain he must have endured made her hate her own kind on his behalf. “Do you think that could work? Would people accept it?”

“Mages would be watched, but could pursue interests outside the Circle... neither freedom, nor prison... I don't know.” He shrugged and sighed.

She thought about all of the mages he must have known in his lifetime. He seemed to like her and he was friendly with Hawke who appeared to be on the side of good had there been others that had given him a better opinion to get past everything that had happened? “If you don't mind my asking, the Hero of Ferelden was a Circle Mage... Did you know her?”

The memory brought a smile back to his face. “I attended her Harrowing, actually. She was a lovely woman.”

Evelyn pulled her head back and smirked. “ 'Lovely'?”

He returned his gaze to her. “There was some... youthful infatuation on my part. A feeling I had forsaken... until recently.”

“You never acted on it?” she probed with a giggle.

“She was one of my charges. Even if she felt the same, it would have been... inappropriate... I saw her once after she became a Warden. She freed the Tower during the Blight. I would be dead or mad if not for her. I was in a sorry state when she found me. The things I said were... unkind. Untoward. I regret them now. I wish she knew that.”

“I'm sure she does...” Evelyn reached over and rested her hand on his bracer. “I'm sorry. I know you didn't bring me out here to talk about such unpleasantness.”

“There's no need for apologies. It's probably good that I talk about all the things I've kept bottled up all these years. I'm just... glad you're here to listen.”

They rode on for a few more hours and the dusk turned into night. Cullen led them off the road and Evelyn was forced to follow, uncertain of where they were. When he stopped his horse and dismounted, Evelyn could hear water lapping against wood nearby and the gentle tapping of what was likely a boat hitting a dock. He secured his horse to a fence nearby and she guided hers to stand beside it. “Where are we?” she asked softly as he helped her to the ground.

His hand found the small of her back and he led her in the darkness toward the sound of the water. She was tempted to take out her staff and light their way, but he seemed to know where he was going. She trusted him, so she followed. As her boots left dirt and landed on wood, she could almost make out the lake with the moon's light and it's reflection. His footfalls paused and there was a bit of rustling before a lantern flared to life. It was resting on a pole that held up the dock. An abandoned crab trap laid opened on the dock and a net was slack in the boat that was causing the noise. His eyes fell on her as she took in the view. “You walk into danger everyday. I wanted to take you away from that. If only for a moment... I grew up not far from here. This place was always quiet.” He leaned against another support pole beside him, his legs crossed at the ankles and his hands clasped before him. He gazed out over the lake, his face peaceful.

“Alone with a mage,” she taunted. “That doesn't concern you?” She had seen the sideways glance he'd given her staff earlier.

“The Templars have rules on... fraternization, but I am no longer bound by them,” he assured her, clearly not answering the question she'd asked. They had never truly been alone before. She wanted to know that he trusted her.

“Would it really have stopped you? If we'd met before?” she asked, her heart racing with the fear that their backgrounds might find a way to split them apart. She had tried so hard in the beginning to not let herself feel for him. Had he done the same? Was he still?

“I don't... I...” he stuttered and sighed.

She crossed her arms. “You could say, 'no of course not',” she tried to joke around the lump in her throat.

The look on his face was pained as he pushed away from the pole to stand closer. “It's hard to believe I wouldn't have noticed you...” At least it was something. She had to let it go. She truly cared for him. Why was it so hard to believe he felt the same? She stared out over the lake, feeling his eyes on her. It was quiet for some time before he spoke again. The breeze tossed her hair over her eyes and she allowed it, closing her eyes and waiting. “The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me this...” She felt him move closer and she glanced over at his outstretched palm. In it was a silver coin, Andraste's likeness engraved on the surface. “It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck.” She turned her body so she was facing him. “Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our _faith_ should see us through.”

She stuffed her misgivings down deep and offered him a small smile. “You broke the Order's rules? I'm shocked!”

“Until a year ago, I was very good at following them. Most of the time,” he confessed. “This is the only thing I took from Ferelden that the Templars didn't give me.” He returned her cautious smile, his hand reaching out with the coin still sparkling in the moonlight on his palm. “Humor me.” She reached out and when her fingers touched the coin, his other hand came up to rest on hers. “We don't know what you'll face before the end. This can't hurt.”

“I'll keep it safe,” she agreed as he released her hand. She clutched the coin in her fist and held it to her chest, beaming at him.

“Good,” he smiled wider and reached out to drop his hand onto her waist and pull her to him. She stepped into his embrace happily. “I know it's foolish, but... I'm glad...”

His arms traced up around her waist and she felt her heart flutter in excitement. His forehead touched hers briefly before he brushed his lips over hers, tentatively. She raised her arms up to snake around his neck, the fingers not still clutching the coin slipping into his soft hair. She deepened the kiss, glad that he had been comfortable enough to bring her here. She wouldn't have blamed him if he'd feared her. There had been so much bad shaping his views. It said a lot about him that he was able to be the man he was now and still be able to care for her. He really was, deep down, a good person.

 

They had both removed their boots and rolled up their pant legs. Her long Enchanter's coat was draped out behind her and her legs dangled slowly in the water. They had been sitting on the dock for hours, just enjoying each other's company. Her marked hand was clasped in his and her head rested on his shoulder where he'd removed his pauldron. Every few kicks, her leg would brush his under the water and she was grinning like a mad woman. The horses huffed behind them periodically, and she wished that they didn't have to go back. It was getting extremely late if the height of the moon was any indication. “We should probably head back soon,” his voice was low, but she could hear his smile.

“What about the satchel?” she asked, yawning lightly.

He chuckled, the movement of his shoulders jostling her head. “An excuse.”

She lifted her head and gasped in mock horror. “Oooo, you lied to Josie and Leliana! For shame, Commander!”

“I'm certain the ruse was worth it. At least for me,” he reached over and cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing over her skin. Then he pulled her close and they shared a short kiss.

“Hey, I got a lucky charm out of the deal,” she teased. He lifted his legs from the water, splashing her in the process of standing. “Hey!”

“How would your luck hold out if I tossed you in there?” he asked, grinning. Then he reached his hand down to help her up.

“Well, you'll be the one to explain to Harritt why he has to remake my new armor...” she said with a giggle, flicking some stray water from her fingertips towards him.

He chuckled. “I suppose that's fair. That set does look rather formidable.”

She held out her arms to show a few of the bells and whistles that had been added to her arsenal when the arcanist had arrived. “It's a Masterwork class. Between Harritt and Dagna, I'm very well protected.”

He knelt and picked up her boots, then handed them off with another kiss, this time on her cheek. “One less thing for me to worry about.”

 

Their ride back was mostly silent, filled with coy smiles and a quiet comfortable air. It was nearing dawn, that dim semi lit calm before the birds woke to hunt for worms. Evelyn had just tore her eyes from Cullen to tug her horse's nose away from a nearby bush when the pulsing of her hand began. She guided her horse slightly ahead of his and then pulled it to a stop, holding her right arm out to have him stop, too. She cocked her head and listened for rushing water. “Ev?” Cullen asked, as he pulled his horse up next to hers, his hand already on his sword hilt as his eyes flicked all around, looking for the danger she sensed.

“Maker's balls,” she cursed, dismounting and unlashing her staff from the horse's saddle.

He was beside her in seconds. “Evelyn, what is it?” he asked again. She tapped her staff on the ground and a dim light surrounded them. Without a word, she held up her tingling palm, showing him the green aura of magic that had spread to seep and crackle from the mark. His expression shifted from alert to concerned and then on to prepared. His shoulders stiffened and he drew his sword. His shield materialized from his back as if he had a magic all his own. “Are there demons?”

“If there aren't, there will be,” she whispered, holding her staff aloft to keep the light from blinding them as she set off, following the tug of the rift.

His hand gripped her arm, his sword and shield both in the same hand to free up his right. “Wait, shouldn't we go ahead to Skyhold? Get reinforcements?”

She smiled sweetly at him. “That would take all day. Best to take care of it while we're already here. Plus I have luck on my side, remember.”

He grunted as she gently pulled away and continued forward. The anchor led her into the woods amidst a cluster of sapling trees. The field was relatively flat, but the placement of the rift was tricky, allowing them little space to maneuver. She clenched her fist around the mark, flexing her fingers to try and relieve the numbness and calculated how many of the trees might be blown back when she opened the rift. It was a relatively small rift as far as she could tell, so that at least meant they weren't at risk for anything too large coming from the other side. “What do you mean to do, here?” he asked, breaking her concentration.

She glanced away from the rift and sighed. “It is already closed, but it isn't sealed. As long as it is unsealed, it is a danger. I need to open it, which means we will be likely attract demons, before I can seal it.”

Cullen rolled his shoulders and took up a fighting stance. “I'm just going on record to say that I hate this plan.”

She nodded. “Noted. When I open the rift, there will be an initial burst of energy and a small delay before the demons manifest.” She cocked her head . “Can you still dispel magic?”

He nodded. “My talents are not as strong as with Lyrium, but I can still perform a few of the basics.”

“Good. If you could lay down a dispel, preferably across the field,” she smirked. “Before the demons can fully manifest, we may gain a slight advantage.” With a nod that he understood, she sighed. “Well, here goes.” She lifted her palm toward the rift, allowing the energies to connect and dance merrily together like old friends. She felt the magic come to a head and she shielded her eyes. The trees predictably cracked under the pressure of the release of Fade energy into the world. When she looked up, she began to immediately back up, noticing the small mounds of green that indicated where demons were going to manifest. Her eyes counted 6 within visual range. “Shit!” she cursed, immediately beginning to bend and twist her fingers and uncoiling her magic from her chest. She saw Cullen across from her, sword and shield at the ready. “Behind you, Cullen.”

Her magic slipped into her staff and she twisted her body dropping a barrier on both her and him a second after he laid the dispel. The demons sprung from the ground and the three surrounding Cullen looked mildly dazed and she was glad that she had brought up the dispel idea. She turned her attention to the demons on the field. They had attracted two shades, a wraith, a portaling terror demon, a lava-made rage demon, and a despair demon. Cullen turned his back to her and charged at the already stunned wraith behind him. While he slashed at it after giving it a good wallop with his shield, she noticed that the demons all seemed to be flocking to him. Evelyn spun her staff in quick circles, her fingers tracing a sigil in the air. Then she slammed the base into the ground and the chain lightening drew the attention of the two shades and the terror demon. Cullen finished off the wraith and returned his attention to the rest of the demons. Evelyn cursed, not having drawn the right demons to her. She tucked her staff close to her body and breathed out, Fade stepping across the field to land beside the rage demon. The icy trail in her wake spread to lap cold fingers at the lava creature. It roared in anger, rising to it's full height, it's left arm reaching up, claws extended. Evelyn dropped the winter's grasp spell from her staff and hurled it at the demon, slowing it to a crawl. It attempted to lash out at her, but she danced out of the way and drew an ice mine in it's path. It crept into the boundaries of the spell and froze solid as the magic exploded around it. With a cry of effort, she swung her staff by the butt, smacking the frozen demon with the head. It shattered and revealed Cullen struggling with the despair demon. The other three were advancing as well. Two on her and the other into the ground.

Evelyn looked down at her own feet and there was no fog. Her eyes flicked to Cullen again and below him the ground was rippling green fog. “Cullen!” she cried. He backpedaled, but not quickly enough. The terror demon sprung up and knocked him off his feet. As he was getting back up, it arched its back and began to shriek. Evelyn called her stone fist and pointed her staff toward the demon, pushing it forward like a lance and releasing the spell. A fist sized ball of earth rocketed from the staff and slammed into the demon's back. It interrupted the shriek and the immobilizing spell it had been casting that would have knocked Cullen off his feet again. She had been busy with him and the shades that had been slithering toward her were all but on top of her. She flipped her staff and triggered the blade. It clicked into position and she slashed downwards, striking both demons before using another Fade step. She was trying to carefully conserve her mana, but with only her and Cullen to fend off the demons, she was running low. She fumbled on her belt for a lyrium potion and just as she had it in her grasp, her muscles seized and she dropped to her knees, panting as her barriers fell and her mana was sucked from her veins. Cullen had used a smite. _Dammit_ , she had been too close. She sat paralyzed for a moment trying to catch her breath and regain control of her limbs as he sprinted to her side.

“Maker, forgive me,” he whispered as he grabbed her by her arm and snatched the potion from the ground. He drug her to her feet and allowed her to lean on him as he uncorked the small bottle. The demons were all beginning to make their way back to them, the icy demon of despair floating on the air more quickly than the land bound ones. Her hands were shaking, but she was able to grip the bottle when he handed it to her. She downed the blue liquid and felt the snaking tendrils of the Lyrium slithering through her veins to negate the effects of the smite.

“Look out,” she whispered, lifting her weakened hand to point to the shades approaching. The despair demon was tugging at the edges of her mind, trying to get inside and pull to the surface every negative emotion she had ever had. From the look on his face, it was doing the same to Cullen. They needed time to regain themselves. She remembered back to the night in the mine after Corypheus had altered the mark. Somehow she had been able to suck those demons back into the Fade without a rift. She had no other magic at her disposal until her mana stores refilled after the debilitating smite. She hobbled to her feet, leaning heavily on her staff. Cullen was engaged with the two shades and the other two demons were clustered between them. She breathed in and focused on the mark, tracing it's connection to the Fade. Her fingers twitched and she lifted her hand to the sky above the demons. A thundering hollow boom echoed around them and just as before, a small rift appeared above the demons. All four began to struggle as they were lifted and twisted in slow motion. Their bodies contorted and they all attempted to grab hold of something solid. Within moments, the rift closed back in on itself, taking the two shades and the despair demon with it. Cullen immediately jumped in and cut down the injured terror demon. “That won't be the last of them,” Evelyn insisted, holding up her palm as he began to rush to her side again. “There are always more.”

In the seconds she had to recover before more spots on the ground began to grow, she quickly downed two more Lyrium potions. She immediately felt her mana surge into her body and the first thing she did was a swift healing spell to wake her limbs back up. Her magic coiled back into her chest like a cat circling a spot to lay and sun itself. A moment of dizziness caused her to stumble with the over use of the Lyrium, but she quickly righted herself. Only four spots this time. Good. Two demons of rage, a wraith and a despair demon. She pulled her arms to her chest and traced a glyph in the air in front of her. The fist sized bolts of ice swirled from the glyph as she charged it with her frost magic. They each sought a target, dozens hitting each of the demons. Evelyn felt the dizziness again and caught herself with her staff. “Evelyn,” Cullen growled from a short distance away.

She knew better than to over do her potions. She shook her head and returned her attention to the battle. The despair demon homed in on her. She could feel it's icy grip on her mind as it floated toward her. She closed and then opened her fist, a blaze of fire appearing in her palm. She threw the fireball and struck the demon in the chest. It reared back, one of it's too skinny legs stretching out from under the cloak it wore and it shrieked. The sound echoed inside her head, bouncing around like a bee caught in a jar. She gritted her teeth and mimed a glyph that when triggered exploded in a burst of fire below the demon. She grabbed hold of the burning demon with a spirit arm and yanked it to the ground, grinding it into the dirt before touching her mana to the glyph. The flames completely enveloped the demon and it shriveled and exploded, icy darts shooting from it's corpse. One caught her in the arm and she flinched as she felt the blood begin to seep down to her elbow. Ignoring the stinging, she spun her staff and charged toward the two rage demons that were fixated on Cullen. She threw herself in front of them and drug the head of her staff along the dirt in an arc. The ice jutted up from her spell and blocked the demons from advancing, but it missed spearing them. “One for each of us,” she purred, her staff still spinning slowly in her fingers as she made her way around the wall of ice.

Cullen stood ready for his own demon and she focused on the one coming for her. She had a winter's grasp charged before it even got to her. Her spell jerked off course when another dizzy spell hit her as she was casting. Instead of the demon, she froze a nearby tree. She shook it off and had to dodge roll from the demon's swiping claws. Before she could get back to her feet, she heard a cry that nearly stopped her heart. She glanced over at Cullen and he had dropped his shield, his arm bleeding. Evelyn gathered her strength and quickly cast another winter's grasp to freeze the demon still coming for her. When it's body stopped, frozen in place, she risked another glance at Cullen. He was now on his knees, and the demon was bearing down on him. It blocked her view of him and she growled in fear and anger. Swinging her staff from her knees, she used the momentum to help her to her feet. The heavy head tugged at her arms and stopped short when it smashed into the frozen demon beside her. She quickly pulled it back and froze the demon that had taken him down. She hit it with a stonefist to shatter it and then without looking at Cullen, she raced to the rift and sealed it before any more demons could come through.

“Andraste, no!” she cried spinning and sprinting to where he was lying in the dirt. She dropped to her knees over him, her hands hovering and the cool blue aura of her healing spell already circling her hands. Her eyes were full of tears. Through the blur, she ignored the injury to his arm and focused on the four scratches trailing across his neck. He was struggling to breathe, his eyes wild. “Hold still,” she begged as he tried to reach for her. She pushed her fingers between the cold metal of his cuirass and his slowly cooling skin. She was losing him. “They won't take you from me,” she promised between sobs. She pulled in a deep breath and focused on the spindle of magic coiled in her chest. She slowly unraveled the weave and prayed as she pushed the remainder of her mana into the healing spell. Under her palms, she could feel his skin knitting together as her energy sapped. She prayed she had enough mana left, at least to save his life. Her hands sparked and the magic died. She desperately ran shaking fingers over his neck, checking to be sure the wounds had healed. His skin was whole, but scarred. At some point, he had lost consciousness and she felt for his pulse. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the steady beating of his heart beneath her fingertips. “Cullen,” she sobbed, tapping his cheek. She needed him to look at her, needed to see his amber eyes alive and focused. The blood off her fingers smeared on his face as she tried to wake him, still sobbing. “Cullen,” she called a bit more forcefully. His face contorted into a frown and his eyes fluttered. When they finally opened and his hand came up to stop her from slapping him, she pulled him into her lap. “Thank the Maker.” She wanted to kiss him, but the taste of Lyrium still lingered in the back of her throat.

She felt her own head sagging under the weight of exhaustion. Her hair fell forward as he sat up, probing his own throat. She swayed, unconsciousness threatening to take her. His hand was on her arm and she jerked back to the present. If she fell asleep now, she would be at the mercy of the Fade, the effects of the Lyrium allowing her to consciously dream. Cullen knew this and he gripped her arm tightly. “Evelyn, you _can't_ go to sleep.”

“Can't sleep,” she agreed groggily.

He was on his feet, the gravel beneath them grinding beneath his boots. “Come on. We need to get back to Skyhold.”

He pulled her upward and she sagged against him, unable to regain her footing. The healing spell had taken so much out of her, but she would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant he was alive. “Sorry,” she breathed as he knelt, still supporting her to pick up his sword and shield. He strapped her staff to her back for her and hissed at the scratches on his arm that she hadn't been able to heal.

“What for?” He asked as he practically dragged her back to the horses.

She was fighting oblivion. She had to be strong. For him. She swallowed a bitter taste in her mouth and sighed. “Should have... help...”

He grunted and she heard the soft snorting of the horses nearby. “No... you did the right thing. I was careless with my smite.”

She felt herself being lifted onto a horse and she did her best not to topple back off when he let go of her to mount the saddle behind her. He leaned to take hold of the reins and secured her horse's reins to the saddle. His sharp whistle startled her as he spurred the horse into a canter. She remembered him talking to her and she remembered passing into the mountains and the bitter cold that helped to keep her awake along with his constant encouragement. Passing through the magical barrier surrounding Skyhold hit her like nails on a chalkboard. Her nerves were sensitive and the magic licked at her, drawing a whimper from her throat. Large hands wrapped around her and she was cradled to a wide set of bare pectorals. She looked up and the sympathetic face that looked down at her smiled with one eye and gigantic horns. “You'll be all right, boss.”

She had the sensation of being moved and heard Varric's voice. “What the hell happened out there, Curly?”

She couldn't hear Cullen's response as Bull carried her further and further from him. She wasn't sure where he was taking her and she attempted to untangle her tongue to ask, but he shushed her. “You're lucky that spirit of yours is always watching,” he muttered as they started upwards. “As soon as he told Solas about you, the elf put himself to sleep. Once I get you to him, you can go to sleep and everything will be all right.”

How she made it, she didn't know. Her mind flickered in and out and then she heard Cole's soothing voice. “So tired, limbs too heavy to feel. Whimpering, worn and wasted. Had to save him. They took it all. They won't take _him._ Sleep... sound and safe. You are safe.”

_Her eyes flickered open and she was not in Skyhold any more. She spun around, trying to make out anything in the fog. She called fire to her fist, but there was nothing. The magic was gone. Panic seized her, her heart racing. Suddenly, a hand landed on her shoulder. She spun around, her fists up, ready to fight with her bare hands if she needed to. “It's all right, Da'len. It's only me.” His hands were lifted before him in placation._

“ _Solas?” She sighed in both recognition and confusion. “What are you doing here?”_

_He smiled warmly, his hands lowering and clasping behind his back. “Cole informed me of your situation as you were returning to Skyhold. I figured you might like some company while your body restores itself. The Fade can be a dangerous place for a mage with no protection.”_

_She ran her fingers through her hair and growled in frustration. “I should have listened to Cullen.”_

“ _What exactly happened? From what I understood he had taken you for the night to ease the burdens of being the Inquisitor,” Solas asked, his head cocked to the side._

_She managed a chuckle. “Leliana wasn't fooled, huh?”_

_He chuckled as well. “No.”_

_She sighed. “He took me to a lake near where he grew up. On our way back, we ran into a closed rift. It was just a little one, so instead of coming all of the way back here, I decided to handle it with just the two of us. At one point in the battle, I Fade stepped and Cullen fired off a smite. Three Lyrium potions later, Cullen was injured. I finished off the demons and sealed the rift. I was already running low on mana and I needed everything I had left to heal him. He was dying.” she finished and Solas nodded as her hands shook._

_Solas took a seat, folding his long legs underneath him and held a hand out for her to join. She sat and he studied her. “It is quite remarkable that you were able to remain conscious for the ride back to Skyhold.”_

_She smiled, a warmth filling her as she thought of Cullen. “If he was strong enough to live through that, I had to be strong enough to stay with him.”_

“ _You care deeply for the Commander,” Solas said as point of fact._

_She traced her fingers in the dirt, little hearts forming to be blown immediately away by the ever changing perception of the Fade. “We are just getting to a really good place. One where we can trust each other in spite of our backgrounds. He's been through a lot and...” she stopped herself, not wanting to give any of Cullen's secrets away to Solas. “...and I almost lost him.”_

_Solas allowed her the time to gather herself, never once pressing for more, but his ears ready to listen if she wished to continue. They were silent for what felt like hours. Spirits hovered all around them, most of them curious, but none of them actually approaching. Evelyn studied them, watching as wisdom and valor and justice, happily went about their 'lives', content to just be. She was beginning to see what Solas saw, the wonders of the Fade were quite spectacular when you weren't looking for demons around every turn. She was sitting calmly, her eyes closed, a light breeze tousling her hair when Solas' voice broke the silence. “Your mana has returned.”_

_She nodded and pried her eyes open to stare into his large ones, the warmth of her magic suffusing her once more. “I think I need to wake up now.”_

“ _Of course. This may be a bit jarring. I do hope Bull laid you down somewhere soft.” he reached out and touched her forehead._

 

Evelyn sat up, gasping, her heart racing. A gentle palm rested on her shoulder and a very welcome voice spoke in the language of his homeland. “Festis bei umo canavarum.” She was pulled into a tight hug and she fell into his arms. Dorian smelled of earth and wood-smoke and she breathed him in. “Maker, Evelyn, don't ever do that again. My heart couldn't take it.”

“I'm fine, Dorian. Where's Cullen?” she pulled away from him and glanced around, recognizing that she was in her own room.

“I'm afraid he also succumbed to exhaustion after delivering you to us,” Dorian waved his hand toward the sofa by the fire. “Vivienne handled patching the rest of his injuries and he tried his hardest to stay awake, but you two were gone all night. That on top of everything else, just caught up with him.” She caught a brief glimpse of his mess of blonde hair peeking around the side of the sofa before Dorian drew her attention back to him. “He's blaming himself, you know.”

“What?!” she asked. “How long has he been asleep?”

Dorian lifted a single brow. “Maybe six hours...”

She bit her lip. “I need to talk to him, Dorian.”

He held up his hands. “Say no more. I shall keep the wolves at bay, personally.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead before patting her shoulder and taking his leave.

She stood up from the bed, feeling rejuvenated. Apparently conscious dreaming was good for the soul. Her boots and over coat had been removed along with most of her armor, leaving her in the under armor pants and tunic. She padded quietly around the sofa to see him sprawled out. He was laying on his back, one leg up, his ankle resting on the armrest, the other leg down, his foot flat on the floor. He was also down to his casuals, his one arm draped over his stomach, the other dangling just above the floor. His breathing told her he was asleep, but his expression was pinched. Across his neck, four new scars shimmered lightly and would probably completely disappear once his body fully healed. Magical healings were nothing more than patch jobs for emergencies. The body still needed to do some work on its own. She got down on her knees beside him and carefully lifted his fallen arm to place it with the other. His rogue piece of hair had escaped again and she gently pushed it back into place and she whispered his name. “Cullen...”

He stirred almost immediately, his eyes opening to look directly at her. It took a moment of sleep driven confusion for him to realize it was her, but as soon as recognition dawned on him, he reached over and cupped her face with his hand. “Evelyn... Maker, are you all right?”

She leaned into his touch, enjoying the roughness of his hand against her cheek. “I'm fine. I just needed a good night's sleep. Solas was kind enough to keep me company in the Fade.” He pulled his hand away and sat up, burying his face in his palms. She pushed up off her knees and joined him on the sofa. “Are _you_ all right?” she asked in turn.

“We need to... _I_ need to learn to be more careful...” he said with a sigh.

“None of this is your fault,” she insisted. “We've never worked together on a battlefield. I should have listened when you wanted to come back for help. Cassandra smites everything in her path. I should have been more careful knowing I had a Templar on the field.”

He cringed at her calling him a Templar, but he didn't correct her. “And I was so intent on making sure you were safe that I shirked my own defenses. I needn't have worried, obviously. Even with all of the Lyrium you took, I've never seen anyone capable of so many back to back spells.”

She shrugged. “I've had a lot of practice, lately, and I have a really good staff.”

“Your spells still need mana to back them up, no matter how many you store in a staff,” he said, heaping her credit back on her. “Watching you work, it was...” _disgusting, frightening, horrible?_ She winced as all of the worst possible options flashed through her mind. “incredible.” He reached over and extricated her wringing hands from each other, taking both of hers in both of his. “These hands... the hands of a mage... saved my life today. I will never forget that.” he lifted them up and kissed her knuckles.

Relief cascaded out of her in a laugh. “So you owe me... Like, huge...”

He chuckled. “Name your price.”

“Training ring sessions. You and me. We should know how to work together like I know how to work with the rest of my team,” she suggested, squeezing his hands tightly.

“Absolutely. I'll work them into our schedules,” he said immediately.

“By the way, Leliana knows you swept me away for a romantic tryst,” she teased.

“Andraste, preserve me. That woman is insufferable,” he grumbled with a small grin.

 

They were standing around the war table, Evelyn already in her traveling clothes with her staff on her back. She had a few other matters to handle before her and her team headed out for the long journey to the Western Approach. Josephine was reading some of her reports out loud to appraise Evelyn of current issues that needed handling. Her final report made her giggle. She glanced at Cullen and said, “I have requests for information on your lineage from a few _interested_ parties at the Winter Palace.”

Evelyn lifted her fingers to her lips and tried to stifle her laughter as Cullen's cheeks reddened. “Andraste, preserve me. Feel free to use those requests as kindling!”

“No!” Leliana reached over and snatched the papers from Josie before Cullen had the chance. “I shall take them. I want to know who pines for our Commander. We can use this to our advantage.”

“I'm not bait!” he snapped in irritation.

Leliana tittered and Evelyn couldn't help her own giggle. “Hush,” Leliana scolded holding the papers from his reach. “Just look pretty...”

Cullen sulked, rubbing the back of his neck and Evelyn cleared her throat. “If that's all, I should probably head out. Hawke has been very patient.”

Her advisors glanced at each other and all shrugged. Cullen sighed. “I'll walk you out.”

He rounded the table with a glare at the other two women as they put their heads together to read over the requests. They walked together, his hand clasping hers. “I was thinking about taking the route through the Emerald Graves to look in on some of those Red Lyrium smugglers along the trade routes on the way to the Approach,” she suggested.

His hand tightened around hers. “Just, please be careful. The Graves are teeming with reports about some organization calling themselves the Freemen of the Dales. By all accounts, they attack anyone who isn't them, on sight.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers, their pauldrons clinking together. “I will send you ravens every night,” she promised.

They ended at the stables, the others already waiting for her. He pulled her around before she could get away, hugging her to him and planted a short but memorable kiss on her lips. Bull let out a loud chuckle. “Anaan!”

Dorian shot him a glare, “Vishante Kaffas... Have you no shame?”

“What!? They could use some encouragement...” Bull began, but with a sharp clucking of Dorian's tongue, he closed his mouth.

“Warm and soft, the taste of spring...”

Evelyn held up a hand and pulled gently from Cullen's arms. “Okay, Cole... Thank you.”

The boy cocked his head at her from where he was perched with his knees to his chest on the back of her horse. “He's not afraid anymore,” he whispered.

She glanced back at Cullen who blushed and shuffled his feet. The smile she gave him was one of reassurance. “We'll be back as soon as we can.” She mounted her horse before she embarrassed herself any further.

 

Evelyn led her little party through the beautiful, lush green forests of the Emerald Graves, picking up more allies in the form of small group led by a man named Fairbanks. They agreed to help deal with the Freemen who were indeed as quarrelsome as Cullen had warned. Their help freed up the roads and allowed Evelyn to track down three shipments of Red Lyrium and stop them in their tracks. She forwarded the notes she found in the shipments to Cullen so they could look into where it was being sourced from while she was away. Fourteen days after leaving Skyhold, the terrain began getting more sparsely peppered with vegetation and the dirt turned to sand. In two more days, they found themselves hunting for whatever shade they could find. The harsh sun beat down on them all day and the nights were nearly freezing. Evelyn was glad for the armor she wore, protecting her skin from the worst of the sun's rays.

They reigned their horses in a small Inquisition camp that was settled near a rocky cliff face and along what was likely to be the only source of water in the vast desert. “Inquisitor!” Harding jogged toward her from a nearby tent. “Welcome to the Western Approach.” Her voice sounded choked, her lungs likely full of sand from the days she'd spent there. With a smile from Evelyn, she continued. “We've sighted Warden activity to the southwest, but no one's been close enough to figure out what they're doing. Between the sandstorms and the viscous wildlife, we haven't made it far out here. One of my men got too close to a poison hot spring and gave me a slightly delirious report of a High Dragon flying overhead. In short, this might just be the _worst_ place in the entire world. Be careful out there.”

“Well, it's good to know what I'm in for,” she sighed.

Harding grinned. “Sorry I don't have more for you. We intercepted a Venatori messenger and... uh... persuaded him to give up the orders he was carrying. We have them here. This entire place... It just feels like something's not right. _Be careful_ ,” she reiterated.

Evelyn nodded. She had come to trust Harding. The woman was very good at her job. She moved off to find the orders from the Venatori and quickly read over them. It mentioned Red templars mining in the canyons and something about summoning. She sighed and put the paper back in the tome where she found it and decided they needed to look into it.

In the canyons, they found abandoned Red Lyrium mines and the bodies that went with that. She had teams deployed to contain the Lyrium and then looked for the ruins mentioned in the note. They fought off a handful of Venatori outside and she and Dorian dispelled an icy force-field that one of their mages had erected to keep them out. Inside the ruins, there were three Venatori to deal with, but once they were dead, Evelyn nearly dropped her staff. Down the main stairs and around to a dais in the middle of the room, there stood a rift. There were several demons and Venatori locked in an active battle. Spells stood mid cast, frozen. She cautiously approached the living still life and gaped. “You're shitting me! You're sure the demons aren't moving?” Bull growled, his voice breaking the utter silence of the room.

“Everything's... frozen,” Evelyn whispered, reaching out to touch a large spike of ice that had been cast, but never dissipated. “I don't think this was the Venatori...” She pulled her hand away.

“No,” Dorian agreed. “I'd say some ancient Tevinter decided to alter time. I'm surprised it didn't go better.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

They made their way carefully through the ruins, and the frozen demons. The entire ceiling had been blown out and the pieces were suspended high above. If somehow time began to flow with them standing there, it would not be a pleasant experience. Evelyn scurried a bit faster to make her way back outside into a courtyard separating the building they were in from another. They ran into more Venatori that were not frozen. Evelyn sighed as the door ahead reminded her of the one from future Redcliffe. “We need five keystones.” They searched the ruins, splitting up to hunt down the stones. One they had them all and they were fitted in the door, it groaned open and she was greeted by a staff that was fitted in a hole in the ground. It stood tall, still magic surrounding it's head. “Is this what they were after?” she wondered.

“I'd be careful with that if I were you,” Dorian warned.

Evelyn strapped her own staff to her back and wrapped her hands around the shaft. With great effort, she braced herself and pulled up. The staff slowly lifted out of place and she felt the surge of magic as it shot from the staff like a wave. “Watch out!” she called as the ground shook beneath her and small bits of rubble came down, pelting around her like a hail storm. “I think time's flowing again.”

“It's all free,” Cole worried as they hurried to leave. They needed to get to the rift and seal it.

After killing a few demons that had made their way into the courtyard, they ran back into the main building. “Craaaaaaaap!” Bull growled as they saw the demons effectively killing the Venatori that had all thawed.

“Come on, before this gets worse,” Evelyn urged as she bolted around to the dais. She slung spells with the new staff, but not feeling the power that she had when using her own. It would do in a pinch, but she would be handing it over to the Inquisition.

“This isn't worse?” Cole asked innocently as he flitted behind her, watching her back.

They managed to thwart the demons and she closed the rift, the ruins falling quiet once more as the liquidy sound of rift remnants splashed to the ground in front of her. “Next time, the damn demons can stay frozen,” Bull grumbled.

 

Finding Hawke and Stroud in the endless desert took them two days. The two waited a short distance from the ritual tower Stroud had mentioned. “I'm glad you made it Inquisitor. I fear they've already started the ritual,” the Warden said urgently when they approached.

Hawke sneered, her sun burnt nose wrinkling. “Blood magic, I'd wager. You can smell it... or see the corpses. You take point. I'll guard your backs.”

Evelyn and the others followed Stroud to the tower across a wide stone bridge. When they arrived, they walked in on a man standing above the rest, dressed in Tevinter styling. He had black hair pulled into a tail and his skin was pale and sickly looking, though the man himself looked hale enough. The stubble around his cheeks that muddied the style of his beard and mustache said that they had likely been there for hours, binding the mages to demons. Several Wardens stood below, each obviously a mage, with demons at their sides. A pile of bodies dressed in heavy and medium Warden armor had been tossed to the side and forgotten. Evelyn watched as another Warden mage callously stabbed another Warden in the chest, killing him. The mage used the man's blood to call forth his own demon from a nearby rift. The Tevinter spoke. “Good, now bind it just as I showed you.” The mage exerted magic over the demon, causing it to sink and cower before him. Evelyn felt her stomach churn as the blood magic suffused the area. “Inquisitor!” the Tevinter drew her attention from the horror. “What an unexpected pleasure. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service.” He bowed low and dramatic, flourishing his hands out to the sides.

“You are no Warden,” Stroud accused with a bitter tone.

“But you are...” Erimond began pacing with a sigh. “The one Clarel let slip. And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?”

“It looks like you've already done some of my work for me,” Evelyn spat, indicating the bodies of the slain Wardens piled in the corner.

“What, him?” Erimond questioned, waving a hand at the man who had been killed as they came in. “We simply needed his blood... Oh, were you hoping to garner sympathy? Maybe make the Wardens feel a bit of remorse? Wardens! Hands up!” As if entranced, the mages mimicked Erimond as his hand lifted. “hands down!” their arms fell back down.

Evelyn gasped as Stroud put voice to her thoughts. “Corypheus has taken their minds!”

“They did this to themselves,” Erimond strutted back and forth, his chest puffed outwards. “You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked _everywhere_ for help.”

“Even Tevinter,” Stroud sighed in defeat.

“Yes. And since it was my _Master_ who put the Calling into their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared.” He paused to look on them with a pompous smile of victory, letting them know just how clever they should think he was. “I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together we came up with a plan... Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

“Ah! I was wondering when the demon army would show up.” Evelyn met his 'superiority' with a glare of her own as she crossed her arms.

Erimond balked. “You knew about it, did you? Well, then, here you are. Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves... This was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas.”

Evelyn had heard enough. Her fists clenched and she stepped forward. “You think you can stand against me with just demons and a Fade rift? Did Corypheus not mention what I did to the Breach?”

“He did,” Erimond snarled with a nod. “He also noted what he did to you at Haven.” Erimond threw his arm forward, his hand glowing with crackling red lightning. Evelyn's marked hand shot forward, pulling her off balance. The anchor sprang to life, burning like a torch had been touched to her skin. She hissed and grabbed at her arm with her opposite hand, physically pulling it back to her. “The Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again.” She fell to her knees, forcing herself from being dragged to him. “That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my Master. He's been forced to seek other ways to access the Fade.” As he spoke, Evelyn felt the magic he had thrust at her begin to dim as his concentration wavered. She stood, thrusting her own arm upwards as Stroud steadied her. Her cooling connection to the rift was made and he continued to prattle. “When I bring him your head, his gratitude will be....” his speech was cut short as Evelyn directed the burst of energy from the rift at him, easily exploiting his own magic as he tried to control her. He cried out in surprise as the energy hit him in the chest and he was knocked off his feet, rolling a meter or two before landing in a heap. He gasped and as he crawled to his feet he shouted, “Kill them!”

The Wardens who had been utterly complacent until then, sprung into action. Evelyn shook off the stinging of her mark and drew her staff. With the clatter of battle, Hawke was drawn to them. With her and Stroud's help, they easily took the Wardens and the demons. In using the rift against Erimond, it had sealed itself. As the last demon fell, Hawke ran up from the back ranks. “So... that went well.” She chuckled bitterly.

“You were correct,” Stroud said to Hawke. “Through their ritual, the mages are slaves to Corypheus.”

“And the Warden warriors?” Hawke asked, glancing around. “Oh, of course. It's not _real_ blood magic until someone get's sacrificed.” She hung her head and crossed her arms.

Evelyn pinched the bridge of her nose and mumbled to herself. “Human sacrifice, demon summoning... who looks at this and thinks it's a good idea?” She threw her arms to the sides and turned to start pacing.

“The fearful and the foolish,” Hawke reminded her breathily.

“The Wardens were wrong, Hawke, but they had their reasons,” Stroud tried to interject calmly.

“All blood mages do,” she said cocking her hips. “Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions... and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions.”

Stroud sighed and addressed Evelyn. “I believe I know where the Wardens are, your worship. Erimond fled in that direction. There's an abandoned Warden fortress that way, Adamant.”

“Good thinking,” Evelyn said, pausing in her pacing.

“The Warden and I will scout out Adamant,” Hawke said gently, recognizing Evelyn's distress. “and confirm the other Wardens are there. We'll meet you back at Skyhold.”

 

It would likely take Hawke and Stroud weeks before they reported back. She took the quickest route they could find back to Skyhold, finished with the sand that suffused her hair and clothes, grinding against her skin and making life very uncomfortable. In the 12 days it took them to get back, her nose, forehead and cheeks had peeled twice from the sunburn she'd suffered. Bull and Dorian seemed unaffected, their northern skin used to the harsh sun. Evelyn had watched the two of them forming an unlikely bond as they traveled. It had started out as un-friendly jabs and insults, but soon those same biting words had changed tone to be more... playful.

When they reached Skyhold, Cullen greeted them at the gates, ready with a relieved kiss and a report of his own. “Welcome back,” he said, his eyes flicking over her as they always did when he was assessing the damage.

“Anything I should know?” she asked as they turned and headed for the upper courtyard.

He smirked. “Sera brought me a piece of cake. She said I looked hungry...”

Evelyn chuckled. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it was either an act of kindness or a trap. I was hoping you knew which.”

She shrugged and giggled. “Maker knows... Any news from those smugglers letters I sent back?”

“The papers you found on those smugglers were exactly what we needed,” he said looking down at her with pride. “They gave us the main source of Red Lyrium for the Red Templars. It's located in the Dales, near a town called Sahrnia. Destroying the mine there will cripple Samson's operations.”

She beamed at him. “Excellent work, Commander. I'll investigate the mine... just as soon as this mess with the Wardens gets sorted out.”

Cullen sighed. “First the Templars, now the Grey Wardens. Both devoted their lives to fighting evil. Now they serve it.”

There was a pause and her mind raced. Cole had said he wasn't afraid anymore, but she didn't want that to mean he would slack in his duties. If the Wardens were building a demon army at Adamant, she would need to be in the thick of things to deal with the problem. “So, if I was possessed by a demon, would you...”

“Please, don't ask me this,” he growled, cutting her off.

“I think I know the answer,” she said biting her lip.

“I don't think you do... It's not that simple, and I... I would rather not think of it,” he said, his voice much softer.

 

Evelyn knew they had time before Hawke was due to report back, so the next day she rode out alone with Dorian to Redcliffe to meet with the retainer that his family had sent. When they stepped foot in the Gull and Lantern, it was deserted. “Uh oh, nobody's here,” Dorian said warily. “This doesn't bode well.”

Evelyn heard a deep voice that drew both of their eyes toward the stairs that led up to the inn above. “Dorian.” A middle aged man stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hands wringing nervously. His skin was darker than Dorian's but their eyes...

“Father,” Dorian sighed softly as if he had expected this. “So the whole story about the 'family retainer' was just... what? A smoke screen?”

“Then you were told.” The man approached and his eyes fell on Evelyn. “I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.”

“Of course not,” Dorian said sarcastically. “Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the dread Inquisitor. What would people think?” He paused to wrinkle his nose. “What is 'this' exactly, father? Ambush? Kidnapping? _Warm_ family reunion?” The venom in Dorian's tone made her flinch.

The elder Pavus simply sighed and shook his head. “This is how it has always been.”

Evelyn spoke up, loathe to draw attention to herself. “I should leave you to work this out..”

Dorian rounded on her. “Oh no you don't! I want a witness. I want someone to hear the truth.”

“Dorian, there's no need to...” his father began.

Before he could finish, Dorian pitched his voice louder and said, “I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.”

“So that's what all of this is about?” Evelyn asked in disbelief. “Who you sleep with?”

“That's not _all_ it's about,” Dorian said with a soft growl.

“Dorian, please. If you'll only listen to me.”

“Why?” Dorian asked, his anger seeping into the air in warm waves. “So you can spout more convenient lies?” Dorian began speaking to Evelyn, his accusing eyes still on his father. “ _He_ taught me to hate blood magic. 'The resort of the weak mind'. Those are _his_ words.” He paced back and forth. “But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to _change_ me!”

His anger was flipping back and forth with fear and sorrow mixing in. “I only wanted what was best for you!” his father insisted.

“You wanted the best for _you_! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!” Dorian, after shouting in the man's face, backed off and leaned heavily on the bar, his shoulders stiff.

Evelyn moved to his side, her hand falling on his forearm. “Don't leave it like this, Dorian.” she whispered sympathetically. “You'll never forgive yourself.”

With a pained expression he glanced at her and patted her hand lightly before moving back to glare at his father again. “Tell me why you came.”

“If I knew I would drive you to the Inquisition...” his father began.

“ _You_ didn't. I joined the Inquisition because it's the right thing to do. Once I had a father who would have known that...” Dorian said with disappointment. He turned and glanced at Evelyn, his eyes asking her to follow.

They were halfway to the door when his father spoke again. “Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed. I only wanted to talk to him... To hear his voice again. To ask him to forgive me...”

Dorian, who had turned to look at the man again, glanced at Evelyn who with a nod of her head told him to go and talk to his father. He smiled hopefully and went to his father. Evelyn respectfully left them alone.

 

Dorian left the Tavern and aside from a few words saying they should go, he was silent as the grave. They rode all day in utter silence. When they set up camp in the evening, Evelyn was convinced that he was never going to speak again. They were sitting around the fire, both staring into it when he finally sighed. “He says we're alike. Too much pride... Once, I would have been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now, I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him.”

“He tried to change you?” she asked softly.

“Out of desperation. I wouldn't put on a show, marry the girl. Keep everything unsavory private and locked away. Selfish, I suppose, not wanting to spend my entire life screaming on the inside.” Evelyn stood and moved to sit beside him. “He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me... acceptable. I found out. I left.”

Evelyn laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. “Are you all right?”

He pulled her closer with his arm. “No, not really. Thank you for bringing me out there. It wasn't what I expected but, It's something.” He chuckled softly. “Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.”

“I don't know,” she said with a giggle looking up at him. “It was certainly a spectacle.”

There was a hint of a smile on his lips and she snuggled her head into him again. “Oh? I'm so pleased to provide you amusement.”

“There has to be a reason I keep you around,” she teased.

His laughter was forced but genuine. “Just the one? My wounded pride.” he shifted and pulled a flask from inside his robes. “At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor. It's been that sort of day.”

 


	12. Adament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to deal with the Warden threat.

Dorian seemed to be feeling better by the time they returned to Skyhold. Hawke and Stroud had apparently arrived because as Evelyn made her way to the war room, Hawke and Varric stood in the long hallway past Josie's office. Hawke grinned amicably and said, “The Warden and I tracked that Venatori mage back to Adamant fortress. They're looking at assault options in the War room.”

“Thank you,” Evelyn said, returning the smile.

She pushed open the heavy doors and entered. Her advisers were indeed standing around he table, their heads together. When they heard the door, they glanced up. “Ah, Ev! We were...”

“Anxiously awaiting your arrival... Some of us, more than others,” Leliana teased, cutting off Cullen with a grin.

“I wasn't... I mean, I was... We have work to do,” he snarled, his face flushing red.

Leliana trained her expression to a more serious note and cleared her throat. “Adamant fortress has stood against the Darkspawn since the time of the second blight.”

With one last grimace at her, Cullen turned his attention to Evelyn with a coy smile as he spoke. “Fortunately for us, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls... And thanks to our Lady Ambassador...” He held out his hand, opening the floor to Josephine.

“Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. They've already delivered the trebuchets.”

“That is the good news,” Leliana sighed.

“None of that accounts for the Wardens summoning a giant demon army,” Evelyn agreed, crossing her arms and opening the floor for ideas.

“That is the bad news,” Leliana sighed.

“Inquisition forces _can_ breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons...” Cullen growled.

“ _I_ found records of Adamant's construction. There are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle,” Leliana said with confidence.

“That's good,” Cullen said, his expression lightening. “We may not be able to defeat them outright, but if we cut off reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel.” He nodded at Evelyn who scanned the plans that Leliana laid out on the War table.

“So our plan is to lay siege to a legendary fortress filled with demons?” she asked in disbelief.

“It'll be hard-fought, no way around it. But we'll get that gate open,” Cullen assured her.

“It's also possible that some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause,” Josie suggested.

“The warriors may be willing to listen to reason, though I doubt they will turn against Clarel directly,” Leliana agreed. “The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death.”

“We've built our siege engines and readied our forces, Inquisitor. Give the word and we march on Adamant,” Cullen said.

“Okay. We leave first thing,” Evelyn sighed. She had just gotten back, but this needed to be handled.

 

With the army in tow, they were nearly three weeks on the road. The Grey Wardens could be all but lost by the time they arrived. That was Evelyn's concern as they approached the impressive fortress. The army was ahead, already moving the battering ram into position as the trebuchets flung boulders over the keep's ramparts. Adamant sat on the edge of the Abyssal Reach, one of the largest chasms Evelyn had ever seen. For the Grey Wardens, Adamant was located here for easy access to the Deep Roads and the darkspawn there. Evelyn took in the vastness of the keep as Cullen spurred his horse ahead of hers to lend his expertise to the army as they worked to get inside. The Inquisition had brought siege ladders and Evelyn could see arrows flying from the ramparts and down into her people as the ladders rose like corpses from the grave to latch onto the outside of the ramparts and allow Cullen's soldiers easy access to the inside of Adamant. She whispered a short prayer for him as he boldly hopped from his horse and donned his shield to march into the fray beside the battering ram. The Wardens were above the gate dropping rocks and shooting arrows below. Her heart was already racing and she was not even inside yet.

She felt a light caress of a barrier blanket her skin and she glanced over at Dorian who tipped his head with a smile. “He'll be fine,” he assured her, having followed her worried gaze to Cullen's shield held above his head and almost disappearing into the sea of other soldiers.

She bit her lip nervously and watched as the battering ram put a significant dent into the heavy reinforced gates. “Let's go,” she said to her small party and hopped off her horse. She wanted to be among the first soldiers through the gate. She hung outside of arrow range as the third hit from the ram smashed through the gates. Dorian, Bull, Cole, Stroud and herself took off at a run as the ram backed away and the soldiers not taken out by arrows or rocks poured into the courtyard. They were met by resistance from both Wardens and demons as the Wardens realized that their fortress had been breached. Evelyn dropped a chain lightening on the demons to draw their attention while the soldiers took on the Wardens.

“Pull back! They're through!” A Warden on the ramparts shouted as a flaming stone hurled from the trebuchets outside and struck above them. The thundering crash distracted their opponents long enough for them to easily clear the courtyard of demons as the Wardens fell back further into the fortress.

She took a breath to silently assess the situation as Cullen slipped into the courtyard behind them. “All right, Ev. You have your way in, best make use of it. We'll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.”

“That's a worrying lack of specificity there, Commander,” she teased, catching her breath.

His expression remained stoic, but he teased her back, his tone making her feel a bit more comfortable. “There are more of them than I was hoping, _Inquisitor._ ”

“You don't say,” she sighed, her palm itching as the mark reacted to something nearby.

“Warden Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She's assisting them until you arrive.” Above, a shout rang out and an Inquisition soldier was thrown from the ramparts to land in a heap not far off. Evelyn cringed as other soldiers below ran to his assistance and the shade responsible slithered away to wreak more havoc elsewhere. “There's too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can't get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we'll cover your advance.” He turned to rejoin his soldiers, but before he got through the gate, he turned back to face her. “Be careful,” he said insistently.

“I always am,” she smiled before moving further into the fortress.

Through the courtyard and up into the main entryway, they met some resistance, but it was relatively light. They followed the clearest path toward the battlements, pausing briefly to help a group of Wardens that, as Josie had suggested, were railing against their mage counterparts. When the mages were dead, one of the warriors shouted and brandished his sword at her. “Keep your distance!”

Evelyn lowered her staff and held her marked hand up in complacence. “The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, _not_ to kill Wardens. If you fall back, you won't be harmed.”

The man glanced between his comrades and a few nodded. His sword lowered as he laid his trust at her feet. “All right. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must.”

Evelyn sighed in relief as the men all backed off. Stroud nodded appreciatively and then led them from the opening and through a door that led to some stairs up. The battlements were a mess. Demons, Wardens and Inquisition soldiers fought amidst flying boulders and raging fires. Evelyn kept to the edges, clearing the ladders as demons swarmed the sides, keeping her people at bay. As soon as an area was cleared, they raced to another. Allowing her soldiers up to lend a hand and spread through the fortress.

After clearing one such area, she spotted Hawke, dripping sweat and grinning madly, flames still crackling in her fists, her staff humming with energy. “Inquisitor, always a pleasure!”

Evelyn shook her head and chuckled. “Stay with my soldiers and see that they survive this!” she called with a grin of her own.

“I'll keep the demons off them as best I can,” Hawke promised and Fade stepped away to find more trouble.

After clearing two more sections of the battlements, Evelyn began to see more Inquisition soldiers than she did Wardens. It was time to find Clarel. They found a way down from the battlements and ran into Hawke again who had apparently noticed the turn in the tide as she had. Hawke patted her shoulder and said, “Commander Cullen will hold a path open for us as long as possible, Inquisitor. Our forces are ready when you are.”

Gladdened to hear news of Cullen, Evelyn nodded and they moved into the main bailey. A host of Wardens awaited them, but none were paying them any mind. All heads were pointed above where a woman paced, speaking loudly. She wore light Warden mage armor, her age showing in the gray of her hair that she had shaved nearly to her head, and the scarring and wrinkles on her face that spoke of years of fighting. Her voice was clear as she rallied her people. “Wardens! We are betrayed by the very world we have sworn to protect...”

The entire middle of the bailey was one giant Fade rift. Evelyn gaped at the size of it as her palm tried to jerk forward. Erimond stepped up beside Clarel, grabbing her arm. He sneered, and gritted his teeth angrily. “The Inquisition is inside, Clarel. We have no time to stand on ceremony.”

“These men and women are giving their lives, Magister,” Clarel snapped, dragging her arm from his grasp. “That might mean little in Tevinter, but for the Wardens, it is a sacred duty.” She moved away from Erimond and with her back to the audience, spoke to a warrior. An older man like herself, his face solemn and determined. “It has been many long years, my friend.”

“Too many, Clarel,” the man sighed, kneeling before her, abasing himself. “If my sword arm can no longer serve the Wardens, then my blood will have to do.”

Clarel was behind him in an instant, her expression regretful. “It will,” she almost whispered before slitting his throat.

Evelyn gasped and felt herself jerk forward, her hand on her staff as the man fell dead at Clarel's feet. Her movement drew Erimond's attention. “Stop them!” He shouted. “We must complete the ritual!”

Evelyn moved as close as she dared to the assembled Wardens who had spun to face her and her team, her anger boiling. “It's done, Clarel! There will be no ritual, and no demon army!”

Erimond lifted his arms. “Then the blight rises with no Wardens left to stop it, and the whole world dies! Is that what you want?” Clarel glanced at Evelyn, and her face was still regretful. Erimond crossed his arms and continued. “And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice. Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty.”

“We make the sacrifices no one else will,” Clarel tried to explain, her tone pleading. “Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them.”

“And then your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!” Stroud said, stepping up beside Evelyn.

“Corypheus?” shock washed over Clarel's face and her shoulders slumped mildly. “ But he's dead.”

“These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel,” Erimond growled, getting up in the woman's face.

Evelyn had a few moments of hope as Clarel rubbed her forehead, trying to decide who was telling her the truth. That hope was crushed when Clarel dropped her hand and said defiantly, “Bring it through!”

As the mages surrounded the rift and the warriors moved toward Evelyn, Hawke bullied past to confront them. “Please! I have seen more than my share of blood magic! It is never worth the cost!”

“I trained half of you myself!” Stroud added, his mustache ruffled. “Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!”

The rift was opening and time was running short. Evelyn could feel the pull of the Fade from the other side. Be ready with the ritual, Clarel,” Erimond coached. “This demon is truly worthy of your strength.”

“Listen to me!” Evelyn shouted. “I have no quarrel with the Wardens! I have spared those I could! I don't want to kill you, but you're being used... and some of you know it, don't you?”

A murmur came over the crowd of warriors that stood before them. One spoke up. “The mages who've done the ritual? They're not right. They were my friends, but now they're like puppets on a string.”

“You cannot let fear sway your mind, Warden Chernoff!” Clarel called from above.

“He's not afraid, you are!” Hawke accused. “You're afraid that you ordered all of these brave men and women to die for nothing.”

“I honor your bravery, my brothers and sisters, but this is not the way. You have been tricked,” Stroud insisted.

The warriors all turned to look back at Clarel. Her expression was indeed one of fear. She glanced at Erimond who took the chance to try and salvage her faltering resolve. “Clarel. We have come so far. You're the only one who can do this.”

“Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges,” Clarel said softly. “To avoid more bloodshed.”

Erimond's expression turned to anger and frustration. His staff was in his hand in seconds. “Or perhaps, I should bring in a more reliable ally.” He turned from her and tapped the butt of his staff on the ground three times. It sparked with the red glow of corrupted magic and he shouted. “My Master thought you might come here, Inquisitor! He sent me this to welcome you!”

From behind him, Corypheus' pet dragon flew up into the sky and let out a savage roar. It swooped low, releasing a spray of red lightning from it's lungs that charred the ground below. Wardens and her people all scattered out of the path of the dragon. It circled over head, doing some structural damage as it smashed through some statues and a tower, shrieking loudly. Evelyn took cover as it landed behind them on one of the ramparts. The sound of magic ripped though the bailey and someone's staff clattered to the ground, drawing the dragon's attention. It's head swiveled and Evelyn took the chance to peer around her cover to see that Clarel had attacked Erimond. From the ground, Erimond pleaded as Clarel eyed the dragon, her fist crackling with mage lightning. “Clarel, wait...”

It was too late. The woman released the bolt, hurling it at the dragon who immediately retaliated with another lightning breath directly at Clarel. She grunted and dove out of the way as Erimond collected his staff and scurried away. The dragon took off and began blasting everything it saw. Chaos erupted and Evelyn saw Clarel take off after Erimond just as the enslaved warden mages completed the summoning, a gigantic pride demon manifesting in the middle of the yard. “Help the Inquisitor!” Clarel shouted to the remaining warriors as she gave chase.

With the dragon overhead, Evelyn was extremely careful about where she stood and how she fought the demon. The air was supercharged, lightning from the dragon and the demon sparked across the ground and made the hairs on Evelyn's arms stand at attention. With the help of the Wardens, the Pride demon went down easily, but more demons continued to pour through the rift. “Clarel is hurting! We have to help her!” Cole called, his voice strained.

With no hope of a break in the demons coming from the massive rift, Evelyn called her people to break away. She headed for the stairs that Clarel and Erimond had disappeared around and started up. At the crest, they were attacked by some shades that came from the shadows. After taking them down, she pushed forward. As they made their way down a narrow balcony that spanned the length of the fortress, the dragon decided to grab a hold of the wall below and stuff it's enormous head between the stone pillars holding the ceiling up and breathe lightning into the enclosed space. Evelyn stopped short, Dorian's barrier flying up around her just in time as the heat licked at her skin. “Fasta Vass!” he shouted moving to kneel beside her where she had dropped to her knees to avoid the spray of lightning. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she agreed, getting to her feet and leaning her weight on her staff instead of her shaky legs. The dragon flew off again and she stepped over the charred ground and met some demons at the corner of the balcony that were engaged with some more Wardens.

Up two more flights of stairs, she followed the trail of scorch marks from Clarel's magic. She caught up with the pair just through a large set of metal doors that led out onto a broken bridge. Erimond was nearly at the end of it, running scared from Clarel. Finally, he turned and flung a fireball at her. Her barrier stopped it and she didn't even flinch as she bore down on him. “You! You've destroyed the Grey Wardens!”

He tried to flee again and found the edge of the bridge. Turning to hurl another fireball from his staff, he stepped right into Clarel's next spell as she ripped up the ground beneath him and knocked him off his feet. She circled him and he began to drag himself to his feet, chuckling weakly. “You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch!” He couldn't fully raise to his feet and he spat blood onto the stone. “All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn't _wait_ to get your hands bloody!” Clarel sneered and swung the butt of her staff towards him, lightning crackling. When it struck, he was slid with the force of the spell back toward where Evelyn stood. He curled in on himself, moaning pathetically as his clothing smoked. “You could have served a new God.” Erimond whimpered.

Clarel lifted her staff as she approached to take the killing blow. “I will _never_ serve the Blight!” she cried, but before she could bring her staff down on him, the dragon appeared out of nowhere, dropping heavily onto the bridge and closing it's jaws around the Warden-Commander. It took off as quickly as it had landed with her in its mouth. Evelyn's eyes followed it around as it spun and landed above the doorway they had come in. It shook it's head twice like a dog shaking a rabbit it had caught then flung Clarel to the ground. The woman landed, bleeding and soggy just a few feet from Evelyn. The dragon crept down from it's perch, stalking towards Evelyn and the others. She backed up, mindful of the broken bridge behind her, with no where else to go. Clarel rolled onto her back, blood spurting from the through and through jagged tooth marks in her gut. The dragon stepped over her, ignoring her for dead and she began to chant the Warden's motto. “In War, Victory...” she paused, her breath ragged as she called to her magic, still strong in spite of her injuries. “In Peace, Vigilance... In Death, Sacrifice!” She lifted her arm releasing the lightning in a bolt into the dragon's gut as it jumped toward Evelyn.

Evelyn flinched, ducking as the dragon was thrown off course and rolled over her in mid air. It crashed down behind her and she immediately felt the ground shaking with the force of it's massive body. The cracks in the stone turned to fissures and Evelyn turned to flee as the dragon scrambled for purchase before righting itself and flying off. She glanced behind her, seeing Stroud hanging from the edge. She groaned and turned back as the ground crumbled beneath her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back onto the bridge, but it was hopeless. The ground gave way and they were falling, all of them. Evelyn's palm twitched and her arm jerked downwards. A flash of green lit up the air before her and her body acted of it's own accord, twisting in the air like a cat trying to right itself as it fell. She closed her eyes, praying and then suddenly, her gut twisted and she was jerked in the opposite direction as if gravity had flipped over. She was falling upwards. When she opened her eyes, she was still careening toward the ground, and she held her arms out to brace her fall, for all the good that would do her. When she didn't feel the inevitable crunch of every bone in her body, she parted her hands from her view and saw she was inches from the ground, hovering. She reached out, her finger barely brushing the surface, before sense reasserted itself and she slammed into the ground, her breath momentarily yanked from her lungs. She groaned and took a second to wonder how she was still alive before the world around her became clearer. Everything was damp, compared to the dry sandy ground of the desert outside Adamant. Nothing looked real, as if it were constructed in a dream and then set in the waking world not quite right. She got to her feet and glanced around. She hadn't been alone. All around her, her friends were also trying to make sense of what was happening. Stroud's voice drew her attention upwards. He was standing _upside down_ on a rock above her head. “Where are we?”

Her head flew around as Hawke spoke from a diagonal rock. “We... We were falling...” she clutched her head momentarily and then sighed. “If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom.”

“No no no no no no! This is the Fade, b-b-but. I'm stuck! I can't... why can't I...?” Cole ran in confused circles, his body jerking as if he were trying to disappear like he would do around Skyhold. He stopped and shot Evelyn a frightened look. “This place is wrong! I made myself forget when I made myself real, but I-I know it wasn't like this!”

“It's not how I remember the Fade, either,” Hawke said, making Evelyn dizzy by turning and pacing on her diagonal rock.

“The first time I entered the Fade, it looked like a lovely castle filled with gold and silks. I met a marvelous desire demon, as I recall. We chatted and ate grapes before he attempted to possess me. Perhaps the difference is that we are here physically. This is no one's dream,” Dorian offered up, his tone the giddy one he had used in Redcliffe that brought out his inner scholar.

“The stories say you walked out of the Fade at Haven,” Hawke said. “Was it like this?”

Evelyn shrugged, completely confused. “I don't know. I still can't remember what happened the last time I did this.”

“Well, whatever happened at Haven, we can't assume we're safe now,” Hawke sighed, her hand not far from her staff. “That huge demon was right on the other side of that rift Erimond was using, and there could be others.”

“Ohhh, this is shitty,” Bull groaned. “I'll fight whatever you give me, boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass end of demon town.”

“In our world, the rift the demons came through was nearby, in the main hall,” Stroud pointed out. Can we escape the same way?”

Evelyn located the swirling vortex which must be the Fade representation of the Breach and sighed. Hawke jumped up and was caught in the flipping of gravity, landing with one leg outstretched, one beneath her and her fingertips on the ground for balance. She was certainly much more graceful than Stroud who landed in a grunting heap when he attempted to do the same. She brushed herself off and Evelyn spoke. “It beats waiting around for demons to find us, right?” She pointed at what she thought best represented the direction of the main hall and continued. “There, let's go.”

As they started forward, Cole began muttering to himself. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. Wringing me out. Wrought right and rigid. Can't relax. Can't release...”

“Hey, stay with us, little guy. Don't do anything weird...er,” Bull said nervously.

“Its all right, Cole. We'll get you out of here soon,” Evelyn assured him, trying to stifle her own fear so that Cole would not need to feel it along with his.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “It should be like home. It's not. This isn't me. Not this part.”

They didn't make it far before Evelyn crested a set of stairs and her jaw dropped of it's own accord. “By the Maker, could that be...?” Stroud stopped in his tracks as Evelyn backed up a few feet to allow her mind to process.

Standing before them was Divine Justinia. It had been months since the conclave. There was no way the woman was alive. How? “I greet you, Warden. And you, Champion...” Justinia said with a warm smile. Her Chantry robes weren't even dirty.

“Divine Justinia...” Evelyn gasped, her eyes wide. She shook her head. “Back at Haven I saw... I thought I saw... How can you be here?”

“I fear the Divine is indeed dead. It is likely we face a spirit... or a demon,” Stroud said warily.

“You think my survival impossible,” Justinia scoffed. “Yet here you stand, alive, in the Fade yourselves. In truth, proving my existence either way would require time we do not have.”

“Really?” Hawke asked snidely, crossing her arms. “How hard is it to answer one question. I'm a human, and you are...?”

“I am here to help you,” Justinia said simply. “You do not remember what happened at the Temple of sacred ashes, Inquisitor.”

Evelyn frowned. “The _real_ Divine would have no way of knowing that I'd been made Inquisitor.”

“I know because I have examined memories like yours, stolen by the demon that serves Corypheus. It is the Nightmare you forget upon waking. It feeds off memories of fear and darkness, growing fat upon the terror. The false calling that terrified the Wardens into making such grave mistakes? It's work.”

“I would gladly avenge the insult this Nightmare dealt my brethren,” Stroud stepped a little closer to the Divine.

“You will have your chance, brave Warden. This place of darkness is it's lair,” Justinia explained.

“The big demon Erimond was trying to bring through?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes,” Justinia confirmed.

“It's nearby?” she cocked her head, her heart beginning to race even faster.

“Yes,” Justinia said again.

“Well, shit.”

Justinia ignored her outburst and continued. “When you entered the Fade at Haven, the demon took a part of you. Before you do anything else, you must recover it. These are your memories, Inquisitor.” She held out an arm to the right, where four wraith like creatures hovered harmlessly nearby. As soon as Evelyn's eyes fell on the nearest one, it floated just a bit higher and a puff of energy burst from it, to smack into her barrier.

Cole reacted, throwing a knife at the attacker. When it fell, it left behind a small ball of green energy. The anchor reached for the energy, grabbing hold of it. Evelyn's mind drank in the memory like it knew it was supposed to be there. She lashed out as her mind began to throb, her staff slamming to the ground. The other three wraiths fell to the lightning and her arm dragged her to each, lapping up her forgotten memories. Her head screamed in protest as the images flashed before her eyes. She gripped her skull, trying to keep her head from falling off her shoulders.

_They were in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The Conclave chamber. A dozen Warden mages stood around, their hands extended, holding the Divine in a magical shackle, dangling her in the air. Corypheus approached, a grin on his face and the orb in his palm, glowing green. “Now is the hour of our victory!” he said triumphantly._

“ _Why are you doing this? You of all people?” Justinia begged the Wardens for answers, her voice small and pleading._

“ _Keep the sacrifice still,” Corypheus ordered. He held the orb before Justinia and she wriggled in her bindings, her expression distraught._

“ _Someone, help me!” the Divine cried and the door flew open._

“ _What's going on here?” Evelyn demanded, rushing into the room._

_When Corypheus turned his head to see who had disturbed them, Justinia quickly took the advantage and wrenched her arm to slap the orb from his hand. It fell to the floor and rolled toward Evelyn who reached down and grabbed it from the ground. As soon as it touched her palm, agony laced through her and she tried to drop it, but she couldn't. It was as if it were fused to her arm. Corypheus cried out in anger and rushed her, but the energy had to go somewhere. It exploded outward, knocking him and Evelyn to the ground._

The vision was over and Evelyn felt sick. Bile rose in her throat and she breathed deeply, her hands shaking violently. Dorian was at her side, looking a bit green himself. He helped her stay upright as the others seemed to need to recover as well. Had they all seen the vision? Her suspicions were confirmed when Stroud spoke. “So your mark did not come from Andraste. It came from the orb Corypheus used in his ritual.”

“Corypheus intended to rip open the veil,” the Divine said softly. “use the anchor to enter the Fade, and throw open the doors of the black city. Not for the Old Gods, but for himself. When you disrupted his plan, the orb bestowed the anchor upon you instead.”

Evelyn felt a surprising pang of sadness. She had always denied being chosen, but the truth hurt to know. “So this was, what, an accident? A random ricochet in the middle of a fight?”

“And if it was?” the Divine asked, sensing her confliction.

“If it was, then neither the Maker nor Andraste were in any way involved in this! I'm just...”

“If you believe in the Maker, then you believe he made this world and everything in it, including your accident. And if you do not, then nothing has changed... You cannot escape the lair of the Nightmare until you regain all that it took from you. You have recovered some of yourself, but now it knows you are here. You must make haste. I will prepare the way ahead.”

Evelyn averted her gaze for a split second and the Divine was gone. She turned to her people to check on them and Hawke had a sour expression on her face. “Something troubles you, Hawke?” Stroud asked.

“I wondered if you might be concerned about the Grey Wardens holding the Divine in that vision...” she spat angrily. “Their actions led to her death.”

“I assumed he had taken their minds, as you have seen him do before,” Stroud said calmly. “Come, we can argue after we escape this dark place.”

“Oh, I intend to,” she said, uncrossing her arms and moving as if she were ready to go. With a pat from Dorian, Evelyn nodded that she was ready to go, too. As they walked, Hawke said, “Do you believe it was really her? The Divine, I mean?”

“Well I have no idea,” Dorian said quizzically. “If it's a spirit, it's not acting like one. No demon would have been so helpful without asking something in return.”

“That's great and all, but the Nightmare's the thing currently scaring the shit outta me,” Bull grumped.

“It's nothing like me,” Cole insisted as if he were convincing himself. “I make people forget to help them. It eats their fears. I-I don't know if I could do that, but I don't. I don't want to. That's not me.”

Water dripped from the heights in waterfalls that sprouted from nowhere, pooling in the uneven surface of the ground. They circled a cliff face, went down a set of stairs, only to be at the bottom of another set. They followed it up, over what Evelyn's mind called a battlement and to another set that went down into a courtyard full of water. There were demons congregated ahead and as they descended the stairway, a voice boomed inside her head. From the looks on everyone's faces, it was talking to all of them. “Ah! We have a visitor. Some silly little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders.” The demons attacked and as they fought, it continued to taunt. “You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think the pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is _me_. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.”

When the demons were dead, Evelyn waded through the calf deep water and Bull chuckled. “Guess this Nightmare wasn't such hot shit after all.”

“These are just his servants, I imagine,” Stroud corrected.

“Just let me have this moment to hope, all right?” Bull muttered.

Up and down more staircases and Evelyn's calves were starting to burn. Suddenly, spiders the size of Mabari puppies dropped from the air on webs connected to nothing above. Evelyn shuddered as Dorian shouted, “Careful! I'm guessing those aren't friendly either.”

Once the spiders were dead and Evelyn's skin finished crawling, the Nightmare began to taunt them again. “Perhaps _I_ should be afraid. Facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition.” It laughed deviously. “The Qunari will make a lovey host for one of my minions. Or maybe I will ride his body myself.”

“I'd like to see you try,” Bull grunted, hefting his hammer further onto his shoulder. His one eye was whirling in every direction, making certain nothing was coming after them.

“Are you afraid, Cole? I can help you forget, just like you help other people. We're so very much alike, you and I...”

“No...” Cole said simply, his eyes darting much like Bull's.

“Greetings, Dorian... It _is_ Dorian isn't it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.”

Dorian's hand clasped Evelyn's as he cooly retorted. “Rather uncalled for.”

The Nightmare laughed in glee before moving on to Hawke. “Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a God? Anders is going to die. Just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about.”

“Well, that's going to grow tiresome quickly,” she said breathily, rolling her shoulders as more spiders appeared from above.

Cole mumbled after the spiders fell. “Small fears, too small to shape the Fade themselves. Clinging to the Nightmare. Feeding on the bits it leaves behind.”

“And _of course_ , they look like giant spiders,” Hawke said sarcastically, brushing off some goop from the front of her robes.

“You saw spiders?” Bull asked belligerently. “Man, spiders would have been a massive improvement from what I saw.”

“They want your fear, so they look how you feel,” Cole said gently.

“Well, now I feel better,” Bull rolled his eye.

In the next chamber, they met with the Divine again and she pointed them to a barrier that was barring them from moving forward. More of the memory wraiths hovered around. They made short work of them and again, Evelyn was dragged through the agonizing muck.

“ _This is the Breach back in Haven,” she felt herself narrating as she recognized the setting. “That's how we... how_ I _escaped.”_

_She was climbing an impossibly tall staircase, the pitch forcing her to her hands and knees so she wouldn't slip. Her energy was sapped, but still she climbed. Above, Justinia reached out to her. “The Demons!” she shouted, warning Evelyn that the things chasing her were gaining. Sweat dripped down her face as she climbed. When she got high enough, she reached out and took Justinia's hand with her newly marked one. It screamed as it flared against the bright green light of the rift before her. She dragged herself to her feet and started to run, Justinia on her heels._

_It felt like they were getting nowhere. “Keep running,” Evelyn urged the Divine. The elderly woman in her long heavy robes was having difficulty keeping up._

_Evelyn heard her cry out and spun to help. The demons played tug of war until Justinia patted her hand and said, “Go!” The divine was torn from her grasp and Evelyn had no time to react. She turned and ran, finally making it to the rift and out._

“It was you,” Evelyn sighed as the agony of the memory Faded. “They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you... she died.”

“Yes,” Justinia said, her expression sad.

“So this creature is simply a spirit,” Stroud said, his tone matching the Divine's expression.

“You don't say,” Hawke mocked.

“I am sorry if I disappoint you.” Hawke's expression softened to regret at the Divine's words.

The spirit began to glow bright and yellow as she shed her disguise, blinding Evelyn as if she were staring at the sun. After adjusting her eyes, she was still unable to look directly at her. “Are you... her?” Evelyn asked softly, a warmth spreading over her. “Did you linger here to help me, instead of passing on?”

Evelyn felt a sense of the spirit smiling. She spoke, still with the Divine's gentle voice. “If that is the story you wish to tell, it is not a bad one.”

“What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the Temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens,” Hawke accused bitterly.

“As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus... We can discuss this further, once we return to Adamant,” Stroud argued.

“Assuming that the Wardens and their demon army didn't destroy the Inquisition while we were gone!” Hawke all but shouted.

Evelyn's stomach did a back flip. Cullen. “How dare you judge us!” Stroud shouted angrily. “You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!”

“To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic!” They were right in each other's faces now, snarling. “But you'd ignore that, because you can't imagine a world without the Wardens... even if that's what we need!”

“The blood sings softly. It never stops, and then its all they hear. We can't let them hurt more people,” Cole worried.

“Don't know that we can pass judgment on the only folks who know how to stop the Blights,” Bull disagreed.

Dorian nodded. “They might still be useful. What if Corypheus conjures another Blight? You never know.”

Evelyn was fed up. She needed to get back. How long had they been here? Did time even flow the same there? Before Hawke could start again, Evelyn moved to jump down their throats. “Sweet Maker, could both of you please shut up! We can argue once we've escaped from the giant fear demon!”

Both Stroud and Hawke's brows shot up in surprise and Hawke tossed her chin behind Evelyn. “Inquisitor!”

Evelyn spun and saw more of the spider shaped demons making their scuttling way toward them. “The Nightmare has found us!” the spirit called, rising up to continue to the next barrier.

“Form up!” Stroud said, drawing his sword and shield.

Hawke twirled her staff and grinned. “I'm with you.”

The debate seemed to subside after that. The Nightmare tried to taunt Stroud, but he was not listening. They followed the trail of the spirit and she brought down the final barrier that kept them trapped while they fought off the demons that attacked. “You must get through the rift, Inquisitor! Get through and then slam it closed with all your strength. That will banish the army of demons... and exile this cursed creature to the farthest reaches of the Fade.”

Evelyn was practically running now. They were so close. “The rift!” Hawke shouted in relief. “We're almost there!”

“Don't say it like that!” Bull begged. “That _guarantees_ another demon is gonna show up!”

Bull wasn't wrong. As they rounded a blind corner, Evelyn's eyes fell on the Nightmare. It was easily the size of six dragons and to her it looked like the biggest spider you had ever laid eyes on. It's hundreds of eyes wiggled around inside slimy skin. Tentacles dribbled between its pincers, saliva falling like a cascade from the tips. In staring at the monstrosity, she nearly missed the man sized avatar that floated before them. It was dressed from head to foot in tattered robes, six spidery legs sprouted from it's spine and it had two human arms and legs. It's face was non existent, as if it had layers of thick skin draped over it's features, and four tentacles dangled from its jowls. Evelyn stepped back as the spirit glided past her on the wind. “If you would, please tell Leliana, 'I am sorry. I failed you, too'.”

The spirit's energy over flowed, sparking to toss the avatar to the side so she could explode in a blast of heavenly bright light and stun the Nightmare. While it was stunned, the avatar attacked them, It flickered in and out of existence like a dream, making may of her spells fall on dead air, wasted. She took to setting glyph traps all over with all of the mana she could muster. Eventually as it flicked back and forth around them, it hit enough that it fell to the ground and disappeared. She shoved her friends toward the rift and ran after them. She noticed Hawke and Stroud falling behind and she stopped to urge them onward. They stopped dead and their fearful expressions made her jerk out of the way and roll toward them, just in time for one of the Nightmare's tentacles to slap the ground with a squish exactly where she had been standing.

“We need to clear a path!” Stroud shouted over the noise of the demon.

“Go! I'll cover you!” Hawke offered, her staff already spinning.

“No. You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must...” Stroud began.

“A Warden must help them rebuild. That's _your_ job. Corypheus is mine.” Hawke growled.

They both looked to Evelyn and her eyes darted from one to the other. There was no time and they were making her choose. How did one make the choice between two lives? “Stroud,” she choked softly, her own words like a physical thing blocking her windpipe.

“Inquisitor, it has been an honor,” Stroud said boldly and pushed the two of them toward the rift. He ran off toward the seeping mouth of the Nightmare and shouted. “For the Wardens!”

Hawke grabbed her arm and Evelyn realized she had ceased moving. She spurred herself forward, making certain that Stroud was not going to die in vain. She and Hawke stepped through the rift, falling a few feet to the ground. Evelyn landed on her hands and knees, her breath caught in her chest. All around, Inquisition and Wardens fought the demons that seemed to be everywhere. Her fear threw her into action. She stood and summoned every bit of focus she had to the anchor. With a sharp balling of her fist, the rift audibly slammed closed behind her. The demons that the soldiers were fighting all simply fell to the ground, their earthly bodies disintegrating and melting into the stone of the bailey. Cheers erupted all around and she again felt her stomach lurch. She had just murdered Stroud. Hawke stood before her, a bitter smile on her face at having survived. “She was right. Without the Nightmare to control them, the mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army.” She sighed, holding her side as if it were paining her. “Though as far as they're all concerned, the Inquisitor broke the spell with the blessing of the Maker.”

“ _They_ came out of this alive. As far as I'm concerned, they can tell whatever stories they like,” Evelyn choked, holding back her tears and resisting the urge to hug herself.

“That's how legends get started,” Hawke warned, having been the focus of her own legend. “Or at least that's what Varric always says.”

A scout ran toward her and breathlessly gave her a report. “Inquisitor. The Archdemon flew off as soon as you disappeared. The Venatori Magister is unconscious, but alive. Cullen thought you might wish to deal with him yourself.” At the mention of Cullen, her heart skipped a beat in relief. “As for the Wardens, those who weren't corrupted helped us fight the demons.”

One of the Warden warriors sidled up beside her scout and glanced around. “We stand ready to help make up for Clarel's tragic mistake,” he said, a fist over his heart, saluting her. “Where is Stroud?”

Evelyn dropped her eyes and swallowed at seeing Hawke's smile utterly disappearing. “Warden Stroud died striking a blow against a servant of the Blight.” She drew herself taller and pitched her voice higher. “We will honor his sacrifice, and remember how he exemplified the ideals of the Grey Wardens, even as Corypheus and his servants tried to destroy you all from within.”

A hush fell over the space and the Wardens all glanced at each other. “Inquisitor, we have no one left of any significant rank. What do we do now?”

As much as Evelyn hated what had happened here, she could understand the fear. She sighed. “You stay and do whatever you can to help. Stroud died for the ideals of the Wardens. In War, Victory. And we are still at war. Do you believe the Wardens can still help?”

“I do, your worship,” he said eagerly.

“You're still vulnerable to Corypheus and possibly his Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.”

“But they hurt people,” Cole whispered in protest.

Hawke nodded. “While they do that, I'll inform the Wardens at Weisshaupt what's happened. Best they not get caught off guard.”

Evelyn nodded her agreement and the Warden who had spoken on behalf of them all said again, “Thank you, your worship. We will not fail you.”

Hawke grinned. “Good luck with your Inquisition. Try not to start an Exalted March on anything. And take care of Varric for me.”

Once everything was settled and clean up began for the Wardens, Evelyn trudged in exhaustion back out to the makeshift camp that had been set up near the main entrance. She had yet to see Cullen, but had been assured that he was alive by several of their scouts and soldiers. She wandered through the camp, helping where she could, healing minor wounds and lighting fires. Anything to take her mind off of Stroud.

She was kneeling beside a Warden who had taken an arrow to her shoulder. The healer broke off the end and pushed the arrow thorough the skin to remove it. The woman clutched Evelyn's hand tightly while biting down on a strip of leather. Once the shaft was out, Evelyn gently placed her free hand over the wound and the positive energy that came from her healing magic burst from her chest, her hands creating a blue healing aura that knitted the wound closed. The healer thanked her for her help and as Evelyn stumbled slightly as she stood, she found herself in a pair of very welcome and familiar arms. She sagged against him. “Whoa there,” he soothed, letting her lean on him. “I think you've done enough for one day.” She lifted her chin to meet his gaze, the heartache of the day catching up with her as her relief at seeing him unharmed overwhelmed her. Her eyes burned as the tears began to flow, slowly. He smiled knowingly, his own eyes wracked with sympathy. His hand reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek before she hugged him tight, her face burying itself in the soft fur of his cloak. _Home... Petrichor... Cullen..._

 


	13. A Friend In Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn does favors for her friends and finds some quiet time for herself.

Their small group pushed ahead of the army and arrived a week sooner at Skyhold. Almost as soon as they rode through the barrier, Leliana greeted her with a warm smile and asked for a personal debrief. She led Evelyn up to her rookery and out onto a balcony. “Hawke sent me one final report,” Leliana said as she leaned on the rail and overlooked Skyhold. The only tower taller than the rookery was Evelyn's own quarters. It was nearing dusk and it was the Nightingale's time to shine. Leliana looked absolutely stunning under the pale sky. “She is on her way to Weisshaupt. As for the Grey Wardens, they are fighting demons and Red Templars while staying clear of Venatori. You dealt Corypheus a significant blow, Inquisitor.”

“The Grey Wardens carry respect in other nations. If we spread word that the Inquisition has their support...” Evelyn suggested, her inner politician taking hold of her tongue.

“We may gain standing with nations that have suffered under the Blight. I will take the matter to Josephine,” Leliana agreed with an impressed smile. “While you bested Corypheus here and at Halamshiral, he himself was not present either time. We fear that he is close to finding another way to enter the Fade. Once you've settled in, we will meet in the war room for an update.” Evelyn nodded and turned to find herself a warm bath. Before she passed through the door, Leliana's voice caressed over her skin again like a sad song. “What was she like?” Evelyn paused and faced her again. “Divine Justinia, or her soul, or the spirit that took her form. I read your report. I know it isn't clear, but...”

Evelyn smiled and offered her the truth. “She refused to say anything outright. I could have used more direct answers and fewer journeys of self discovery.”

The smile in Leliana's voice was obvious even without seeing her face. “She made a lot of people feel that way.”

“She did ask me to tell you something, though,” Evelyn said, the spirit's last words jumping back at the mention of her. “She said, 'I'm sorry. I failed you, too'.”

The 'oh' was barely a whisper as the spymaster pushed up from the railing to stand taller. “I should finish this before it slips my mind. Perhaps later, we might discuss the matter further.” The smile had disappeared and was replaced with grief. “Thank you.”

Evelyn took her leave and found her way to the bath she had promised herself. She laid in it probably longer than she had intended and when she dressed, she was out of anything pressing to do. It was after dark now, so she found herself wandering down, predictably to Cullen's tower. She was not certain what she hoped to find there, but it wasn't the collection of soldiers and scouts crammed into the small space. She slipped in the open door and leaned against the wall, one leg lifted for her foot to rest comfortably flat against the wall and her arms wrapped around herself. She lifted her marked hand in front of her chin to comfortingly rub her fingers together and stop the tingling that had started in the bath. She watched him work, a satisfied grin spread across her face as she drank him in. “Rylen's men will monitor the situation...” he passed papers back and forth, signing and reading as he spoke. The multitasking was impressive.

“Yes, ser. We'll begin preparations at once.”

“In the meantime, we'll send soldiers to...” he glanced up from what he was doing and his eyes fell on her. “assist... with the... relief efforts.” She smiled at her ability to distract him from his focused tasks. His eyes roved her and he handed off a report. “That will be all.”

“Ser...” The soldiers all saluted and filtered from his office.

He followed on their heels closing the door tightly behind them. His palms pressed flat against the door and he sighed heavily. “There's always something more, isn't there?”

“Wishing we were somewhere else?” she asked coyly, remaining in her relaxed position against the wall.

He chuckled and pushed away from the door. “I barely found time to get away before.” He paced back toward his desk, removing his scabbard and carefully leaned his sword against the bookshelf. “This war won't last forever. When it started, I hadn't considered much beyond our survival, but things are different now.” he turned to flash one of his adorable crooked smiles in her direction.

“What do you mean?” she asked, pushing away from the wall and approaching him.

“I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over, I won't want to move on, not from you.” He sighed and his hand found her cheek to caress gently. His confidence flicked to nervousness and he glanced away. “But I don't know what you... That is, if you, ah...” he fumbled sweetly on his words and shuffled his feet, moving away from her to lean on his desk.

Her body pulled her back to his side where she took his arm and maneuvered herself between him and the desk. “Cullen, do you need to ask?”

He stepped closer, effectively blocking any means of escape for her as his features lit up. “I suppose not... I...”

She gasped as she leaned against the desk, her hand bumping a bottle of wine he had near the edge and knocking it to the floor. She saw the pieces shatter and when she glanced back at him, there was a fire in his eyes. He smirked devilishly and his arm swiped out across the carefully sorted desk, knocking all of his papers and everything else he had to the floor. The invitation in his gaze set her heart racing. She was already halfway on the desk and he lifted her up and set her back down, gently urging her onto her back as he leaned over her. She scooted her way further onto the flat surface, her skin on fire, her back arching as he crawled up to lie half on top of her, his elbows taking most of his weight. She whimpered as he teased her with his lips, barely caressing hers before she slid her hands into his hair and gripped his waves tightly to pull him to her. He smiled around the kiss, his body rubbing against hers, but there was too much in the way. She pawed at his armor, the metal cool against her flesh. She needed his warmth. He snorted in delight as she attempted to fiddle with his buckles.

“It's not that easy,” he teased, his hand slipping up under her tunic, to slide lightly over her skin. Her body reacted, gooseflesh prickling wherever he touched and she bit her lip, closing her eyes, her hands above her head clenching in fists. Maker, how had they gone so long before doing this?

With his attentions focused on her, he easily made his way out of the furry cloak and hard cuirass. His mouth kept hers occupied long enough to distract her. When her hands found their way out of his hair, she traced down his neck and inside the lacing at the neck of his gambeson. He reached up and dislodged her hands to trace her jawline, his eyes studying her with an deep intensity. When his lips found hers again, his hand moved slowly down over her chest then snaked around her waist and under her shirt again to grip her lower back, pressing her against him. Her hands gripped his biceps, as her left leg bent at the knee to lift and wrap around him. Even through their clothes, she could feel him, reacting to her closeness. She moaned again, biting her lip as he kissed down her jaw and around to her neck where his wonderful scent enveloped her senses. She took his earlobe between her teeth, gently biting down only hard enough to let him know she was there. His answering groan made her do it again, just a little bit harder. He chuckled, huskily, his breath catching on the moisture of her skin where his lips had just been. “Maker,” she sighed as her stomach clenched in desire.

He pulled away from her neck and nuzzled his way down to where her leggings met her waist. He nosed her shirt higher, exposing her stomach to the cool air that slipped in the arrowslits. It was soon replaced with his mouth. A light grazing of his teeth dragged a gasp from her throat. He ever so slowly kissed his way up to where those teeth could gently tease her nipple to attention. She gripped the desk above her head, her breath heavy as he put his multitasking to good use, still driving her wild with the attention on her breasts while his fingertip traced the top of her pants, before his palm laid flat against her hip then massaged down her thigh, following it around to where it was still wrapped around him. She was aching for him to move inwards, but he drew out her need, abandoning her breast to push himself to his knees and pull his top over his head and toss it to the floor. Her hands moved of their own volition, reaching up to touch his bare chest. She bit her lip again, remembering back to the day when she had watched him in the training ring, sweating and glorious. “What just crossed your mind?” he asked with a smirk as she traced over his abdomen, her fingers dipping up and down between his well defined muscles.

She pressed her lips together in her own smirk then said. “Your many exertions in the training ring. After tonight, it is going to be very difficult for us to engage in our own sessions without me having... interesting thoughts.”

He leaned down close, pinning her hands between them. “For Andraste's sake and mine, refrain from biting your lip when you have those thoughts.” He reached down and kissed her again, before gathering her bottom lip between his teeth and biting just this side of too hard.

She moaned and lifted her hips, her leg locking tighter around him again. No one had ever wound her up this tightly. Back in her days at the Circle, her encounters had all been a whirlwind of dark corners and lifted robes so that no one could find out. Now, here she was, bedding the enemy. Well, desking him, as it were. She chuckled and extricated her hands to caress around his narrow waist and slip down between his belt and his hips. “You are such a tease, Commander.” As her palms forced their way to his ass cheeks, she gently uncoiled a sliver of mana and allowed it to pour lightly from each finger tip, tracing slowly arching shocks of electricity up his back.

He closed his eyes and his hips pressed into her. “Sweet Maker,” he sighed, lowering his head to nuzzle against her neck.

“I know you've probably never been with a mage before,” she whispered in his ear before touching her lips lightly against his neck and kissing slowly toward his clavicle. “That is just a taste.”

“You're right, I haven't, but I could get used to that,” he said, his voice dark. His eyes were even darker when he opened them and looked at her, the light amber color verging on a heady brown. He leaned down and kissed her again and she let him taste her magic once more, heating her fingers to just shy of igniting into a fireball and massaging the muscles on his back, kneading skillfully in the tenser areas where he kept his stress balled up. His fingers slipped into her hair as he continued to kiss her, his body moving against hers. When he moved away from her mouth, his hand found it's way back down to her waist. The strength in his arms as he dislodged her hands from their ministrations to pull her tunic over her head brought a moan from her throat again and he caught on quickly. He took both her wrists in his one hand and pinned them above her head his smile devious as his other slid down to again trace the top of her pants. Her upraised leg slipped from his hip as he rolled to take his weight from her, giving all of his strength to holding her arms in place. She arched her back as he teased along her skin with his fingers. Then finally as he drew his hand closer to himself. He slipped down, one knuckle at a time into her smalls. She was practically panting as her arms fought for the freedom to touch him. It was a double edged sword of need and want, driving her mad with both as he effortlessly held her where he wanted her. His hand moved over her pelvis, beneath her clothes, touching nothing more intimate than the sensitive skin there. When he made it around to her side, his hand slipped deeper and he took her clothing with it, moving to lean over her again, lifting her hips with his one arm to free her of the confines of her breeches. He took a moment to study her before reluctantly releasing her hands and standing to remove her boots so her skin would be completely free.

He kicked off his own boots, before kneeling on the ground and wrapping his arms around her thighs. He tugged her to the edge of the desk, so his head was between her thighs. Then he kissed along her inner thigh, pausing before he tipped into her need and starting over on the opposite side. Her hips moved toward him and he effortlessly moved her back so he could tease her into madness. She writhed under his touch, his strong arms holding her from wriggling out of place. He once again with a raise of his brow kissed down her inner thigh, paused, moved to the other side and paused again. His breath against her had her biting her lip again as she gripped the edges of the desk. Then his tongue was inside her and she yelped in surprise as he expertly licked right over that perfect spot. She felt him grin at her reaction and she pushed her hips into him, her own fingers running through her hair and then down her own skin before coiling in his hair as his tongue stroked her. Refusing to give her more than a tease, as soon as her breathing quickened and she felt her muscles begin to tense, he pulled out from her, drawing a frustrated groan from her throat. She watched him stand and the look on his face coupled with his mussed hair and the bulge pressing against the laces of his trousers, she sighed and stretched like a cat, showing him what he was missing out on touching as he stood there. He shook his head and reached out, slipping his hands beneath her arched back and lifted her back so she was all of the way on the desk. After he joined her again, she reached down and helped to liberate him from the tightness of the laces and leather. He leaned over her and kissed her, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue. She used her legs to pull him against her, his new freedom painfully obvious as he stroked over her. The teasing nearly became unbearable and she answered it with teeth to the meat of his shoulder. He chuckled then stroked over her one last time before taking the hint and pushing his way inside.

He was a lot to take, but she was so on fire, that she could probably have taken a Qunari without a problem. She pushed her hips into him, his sturdy desk barely budging as they moved together. She could feel him coming undone in the increasingly heavy breath on her neck and the way he gripped the desk beside her head, using it as leverage. She slid her hands up his chest then back down and around to his back where her fingers pressed into his flesh to pull him closer, her legs crossed tightly over his rear. “Maker, Ev, I'm close... where should I...?” she silenced him with a kiss, her own orgasm lighting up her vision as she kept him inside with her legs, and her nails raking down his back. Her carefully coiled magic unraveled in her chest, releasing more tantalizing sparks from her fingertips as they trailed his flesh. Their closeness allowed her to enjoy the tingling, making her cry out in ecstasy and doubling the warmth of him as ages of pent up tension eased from his body in his orgasm.

Her muscles twitched and jerked and she felt his doing the same in reaction. He held himself over her, his weight on his forearms as his head sunk to bury his face by her neck. She panted heavily, trying to catch her breath around the joyous smile that she couldn't shake. Her arms dropped to the desk and he gingerly pulled out of her, hissing as her body tried to keep him locked in place. She chuckled and that only made things worse. He groaned, playfully nipping at her neck with is teeth. “Wow,” she sighed. “That was certainly different.”

“It was...” he led, rubbing his palm along her abdomen. “You let me... was that responsible?”

She chuckled and ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder. “I may be impulsive, Cullen, but I wouldn't have if it wasn't safe. I have herbs that I've been taking for years to make certain that won't be an issue.”

“Of course...” he said, relief seeping out of his chest in a sigh. His hand roved up her stomach and over her breasts before he paused at the tiny vial secured around her neck. Her phylactery. The only link she had left to the Circle. It was likely, with everything that had happened, that she was never going back, but still she kept it. He took the small bit of her blood between his fingers and studied it with a frown. Then he lifted the cord over her head and dangled it between his fingers. “Why do you keep this?” His tone was curious and a bit sad.

She shrugged. “I suppose after the Conclave, my life was so up in the air, I didn't know what to do with it. Now, it never occurred to me to get rid of it.”

He gathered the vial into his fist and said, “If anyone in Thedas could convince me that mages shouldn't be caged, it's you.” He tossed the vial across the room and it cracked against the wall, falling to pieces. “You won't be needing that anymore.” She gasped in surprise and he silenced her with his lips. For Cullen to have so thoroughly liberated her, he must truly feel for her as she did for him, and Cole had been right. He wasn't afraid anymore.

After taking a few moments to breathe, she giggled. “So, do you have a bed, or do you just curl up in your reports like a hamster?”

His laugh echoed through the quiet of the mostly sleeping Skyhold. “I don't nest in my reports, although I have caught myself dozing amidst the mess from time to time. Believe me, I will not be able to look at this desk the same _ever_ again.”

“It's a good desk,” she patted the wood beneath her and scooted closer to him, the fire under her skin cooling to allow the breeze to slip through the windows and raise goose flesh on her sweat laden body.

“Cold?” he asked as she shuddered.

“A little,” she nodded.

“Come. I'll light a fire.” He stood from the desk and her eyes beheld him in all of his glory. Most templars were in pique physical condition and Cullen was no different. Everywhere she looked, tight muscles sculpted him to perfection. She took note of each scar that marred his light skin, noticing that the marks on his neck from the demon had all but disappeared. He was not covered, but his years of service showed. She wondered how many of them he had gotten at Kinloch hold during the Blight before Solona Amell had swept in and saved him. She had never personally met the Hero of Ferelden, but she wished she could, if even just to thank her for Cullen. “What?” he asked, his hand held out to her as she stared, worrying at her lip again.

She took his hand and rose from the desk, a smile on her face. “Nothing,” she sighed, pressing herself to him so she could rise to her toes and meet his mouth with hers. “Just you.”

He turned her so his body was pressed to her back and he brushed her hair from her neck to lean and nip gently at her earlobe. He moved her towards a ladder by the exit and patted her rear to scoot her up. She began to climb and halfway up, his hand wrapped carefully around her ankle, effectively stopping her in place. He climbed up beneath her as she slowly turned her body so she was perched backwards on the ladder. He came up to meet her, kissing upwards as he climbed until his lips met hers. She cautiously found her hands leaving the safety of the ladder to run through his hair, knowing that he would never let go, never let her fall, at least no further than she already had. Butterflies flapped wildly in her stomach as they kissed. No one had ever allowed her to feel so comfortable in her own skin, as if she belonged beside him. He released her lips with a chuckle. “Get up there.”

A steadying hand on her hip guided her back around so she could climb the rest of the way to his quarters. His space was very spartan. A fireplace stood behind her as she paused far enough away from the ladder to allow him to finish coming up, himself. “You know you have a hole in your roof, right?” she teased, taking in the bed that sat carefully made in the middle of the wall to her right. To the far left back corner, the entire ceiling had fallen in. The moonlight streamed in, casting a dim glow on the otherwise dark room. A small dresser was pushed against the wall near the fireplace, but there was naught else that he kept up there. The living quarters of a soldier.

He came up behind her, his hands sliding around her waist. “I'm more comfortable in the open. It was like that when we got here, like most of the castle, and I just left it.” His hands slipped lower, brushing the crease of her leg and playing over intimate places.

She lost all chain of thought as he touched her, his reaction to her skin against his pressing against her backside. She leaned her back into his chest and one of his hands stayed below as the other rose up her body to grope her breast, squeezing lightly. He guided her towards the bed. “How Ferelden of you,” she quipped as he bent her forward over the mattress, his hand tracing down over her back. She climbed up on her knees giving him a better angle to gently squeeze her rear before he slipped fingers into her, a gasp of pleasure escaping her lips.

As he had with his tongue, his fingers brought her to the brink before abandoning her to the moment of frustration as he denied her completion without him. There was little hesitation this time before he took her again. The angle was deeper, forcing her to shy away from fully pushing onto his length. He seemed to take this information and store it away, his body training itself to not push that extra centimeter that would have been too much. As it was, his body slipped sensually over and over exactly where she needed him. She dipped her head low to the bed, her hair curtaining over her vision as the rest of her body followed the angle change, her ass lifting slightly to press against his groin. Just that slight movement gave him the perfect angle to gain that extra centimeter. “Maker,” he whispered, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her into him. Her moan of pleasure as he slowly guided her hips around while he continued to push back and forth, drove him to a carnal frenzy. His arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her upwards so they were pressed together. His teeth found the curve of her neck and she reached up and gripped his hair, tugging him off so she could turn her head and plunge her tongue in his mouth with him still deep inside her. The kiss was sloppy as she felt herself slipping closer and closer to that marvelous ache just before the dam would break.

“Cullen, I need...” her words caught in her throat, cut off by a soft hiccuping gasp as he gave an extra push that said he knew precisely what she needed. He reached down in front of her, his fingers on one hand playing over her labia while the other offered her a glorious pressure on the front of her pelvis “Oh, sweet Maker, yes,” she sighed.

“Cum, for me, Evelyn,” he hummed in her ear as his own rhythm increased, and his breathing hitched.

Her orgasm immediately followed his, pitching her body forward as his hands found her hips again to hold her while he pressed deep inside to release. “Yes, ser!” she chuckled her limbs weak as he slowly allowed her to slide off and flop onto her back.

He dropped down beside her and she immediately rolled to drape her arm and leg over him, showering his neck with light kisses before snuggling up to him and resting her head on his chest. His thumping heartbeat slowly regained it's normal steady rhythm as she regained the ability to feel her limbs. “You are...” he didn't have to finish as he kissed the top of her head, his strong arm around her back, playing in her hair and tracing up and down her shoulder and arm.

She lazily drew swirling patterns on his chest with her fingers, the gentle glow of the anchor casting a light on his skin. Most of the time, she despised the thing for having turned her life into something she hardly recognized, but it was times like this where she thanked the Maker for her luck because it had led her to him. He picked up her hand and kissed her palm, as if reading her thoughts. She began to lose herself in his presence and his warmth. He briefly disturbed her. Pulling the carefully tucked sheets from beneath them to stifle the chill that blew in the room from the hole. She chuckled when he made to get up and pushed him back down. “I've got it...” she mumbled. She spindled her magic and bent her fingers to trace a glyph into his fireplace. She released a bit of mana, igniting the stack of wood. Then she huddled closer to him and closed her eyes to listen to his heart.

 

When she woke in the morning, he was still beside her, lying on his back. She took a moment to enjoy the sloppy mess he was, his usually carefully kempt hair in disarray and a sheet draped casually over his legs. She wondered what time it was and realized that she probably had a mile of parchments and scrolls on her desk in her quarters that would need her attention. She sat up, seeing that the fire had burned down to embers and the sun was shining softly through the hole in the roof. She dangled her legs off the bed and saw that her clothes had been carefully folded and placed on the floor beside the bed. Cole was going to need a lesson in privacy. She picked up her things and dressed quietly. As she was lacing up her boot with her foot up on the bed, he began to stir behind her. She turned to glance at him. His hands were balled into tight fists and a frown creased his brow. He breathed shallowly as if he were being chased. “Leave me,” he mumbled, again and again, lightly thrashing.

She laid a gentle palm on his chest, her body twisting to face him. He inhaled sharply and bolted awake, his eyes darting around the room before they landed on her and he sighed deeply, lying back on the pillow to close his eyes in frustration. “Bad dream?” she asked softly, her palm sliding a bit further up his chest.

“They always are.” He opened his eyes and looked at her again. “Without Lyrium, they're worse.” Her eyes studied his face in concern, wishing she could do something to help him. He lifted up onto his elbow and said, “I didn't mean to worry you.”

She shifted closer to him and his free hand found her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her own eyes closing as memories from the evening surfaced. She mirrored his hand on her cheek by gently running her fingers through his mussed hair and then down over his face. “Despite the dreams, is it still a good morning?”

He chuckled softly, a light smile pulling at his lips. “It's perfect.” She leaned in, allowing him to pull her closer to him. Their foreheads came together and his cheek nuzzled hers. “You are... I have _never_ felt anything like this.”

Her feelings spilled out, as she pulled just far enough away to meet his amber eyes. “I love you. You know that, right?”

His face lit up with joy, the half smile spreading to crookedly widen. “I love you, too.”

Her heart soared as she pulled his mouth to hers. So much had been implied and left unsaid, that the butterflies that had been telling her what she felt flapped even more wildly in excitement as the words were laid bare. She broke the kiss before she got carried away. The look in his eyes told her that there was never any way that he was leaving her. They had found each other in spite of all of their differences and nothing short of death would rip them apart. She returned the gaze, her hand that was on his chest slowly and regretfully pulling away. His palm on her cheek traced all of the way down her arm as she stood and backed toward the ladder. Their fingers clasped briefly and she smirked before letting go and turning to saunter away, adding a sway to her hips as a tease for later.

At the bottom of the ladder, she was pleased to see that Cole had stopped short of cleaning up the desk. There was no way she could have explained that, Cullen's papers were still strewn around the room and she bent to begin picking up a few. “You can leave those,” he called from the top of the ladder. He had pulled on some trousers, but nothing else. “I'm going to have a full day of sorting ahead of me.”

“Was it worth it?” she asked, biting her lip and centering the stack she had in her hands before gingerly placing it on the desk.

“Maker, you have no idea,” he said with a grin, moving to climb down the ladder. “Now get out of here before neither of us gets any work done today.”

She giggled and balled her fist to press it over her heart. “Aye, Commander.” Then she scurried out as he shooed his hand with a chuckle.

 

She headed toward the tavern, thinking to check in on Cole. She hadn't had much chance since they had left Adamant. He had been remarkably distant. When she didn't find him in his usual spot, lurking near the rafters, she sighed and headed down to leave the quiet tavern and hunt him down. She had barely stepped outside when a breeze kicked up her hair, pulling Solas' insistent, “NO!” to her ears. She followed his voice and saw him stomping down the stairs leaving the main hall that headed toward the courtyard.

Cole followed behind, his steps light and bouncy as he barely touched any of the stairs. “But you like demons!”

Solas reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to face Cole. Evelyn had never seen the elf quite so agitated. She wandered over to see what the fuss was. “I enjoy the company of spirits, yes, which is part of why I do not abuse them with bindings.”

Solas again turned and tried to walk away from Cole. The boy followed close behind. “It isn't abuse if I ask!”

“Not always true,” Solas sighed, stopping and turning again. “Also, I do not practice blood magic, which renders this entire conversation academic.”

Cole noticed her hovering and he jerked away from Solas to approach her, pointing behind him like a child tattling on the playground. “He won't bind me. He's a mage, and he likes demons, but he won't _help_.”

Evelyn backed up a step and frowned. “We just saw the Grey Wardens try to raise an army of demons... You want Solas to _bind_ you?”

“He has to!” Cole insisted flitting back to Solas. “If Solas won't do the ritual to bind me, someone else could. Will! Like the Warden mages! And then...” he paused, his fingers fiddling with the frayed hem of his sleeve. “I'm not me anymore. Walls around what I want, blocking, bleeding, making me a monster.”

Evelyn sighed. “A mage using blood magic could conceivably do that to any one of us, human or demon.”

“You should ask Solas to bind you, too! And then someone can bind him...” Cole sputtered.

“There has to be some middle ground between 'do nothing' and 'bind Cole with blood magic',” Evelyn said sympathetically, looking to Solas.

The elf tipped his head. “Indeed. I recall stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit wearing an amulet of the unbound was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well. The resources of the Inquisition could be used to find such a Talisman.”

“Good.” Cole stalked away toward the tavern. “They will not take me.”

Solas sighed and shook his head. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”

She nodded. “I'll get Leliana to look into finding one of those amulets.”

When Solas nodded and walked off, her ears picked up on a meaty thunking sound coming from behind the tavern where a few practice dummies stood a little way off from the rest that Bull and his men used a lot. She moved to investigate, finding a rather giddy looking Cassandra repeatedly beating Bull with a large stick. Bull was criticizing her and shouting “Harder, again!” After the third whack that Evelyn witnessed, he growled in frustration and said angrily, “Oh, Come on! This is why the Qun doesn't like women fighting! I should have asked Cullen!” Cassandra paused as an irritated smirk drew her lips back. She took a step back and instead of hitting him in the chest as she had been, she swung the stick upwards and cracked him in the chin. Evelyn approached as Bull fell to the ground and grunted breathlessly. “Good one.”

Cassandra triumphantly handed Evelyn the stick and grinned. “Perhaps you can take over.”

The woman sauntered off as Bull dragged himself to his feet, rubbing his chin. With a questioning cock of Evelyn's head, he explained. “Qunari training exercise to master your fear. Been a while since I needed it, but that Nightmare demon was... big.”

Bull braced himself and nodded to her. Evelyn lifted the stick and planted her feet. “All right,” she said with a shrug.

Bull grunted with each hit to his chest, Evelyn swinging as hard as she could. He talked to himself between whacks. “There we go... Oh, yeah... damn demon... who's stuck in the Fade, huh?...”

“So, we're working out your fear... with a stick?” she asked with a smirk.

“Less talking, more hitting,” he growled, pumping his arms back and forth. She gave another good whack and the cycle began again. “Piece of Fade, piece of crap!... And who killed you?... That's right, IRON _FUCKING_ BULL!” he roared, holding up his fists in triumph. Evelyn backed off as he breathed heavily. “Oh... I needed that. Thanks, Boss.”

She chuckled handing the stick over to him. “No problem. Just don't tell Cassandra I hit harder than her.”

He laughed heartily. “It makes sense. You wield a stick every day. You're used to the weight and the balance.”

“I'm going to find some breakfast. I'm starving. You going to be okay?” She asked tossing her thumb over her shoulder toward the keep.

“I'm good, Boss,” he winked.

Evelyn turned and made her way to the main hall where she intended to head down to the dining hall below. When she stepped in from the entry way and adjusted her eyes to the darker room, she saw Dorian heading toward her from the throne area. He was grinning widely and holding two mugs in his hands. “Well, well. You're up and about early.”

He handed one of the mugs to her and she saw that it was coffee. She breathed in the tantalizing aroma and grinned at him over the brim. “What did I do to deserve this?”

He stepped closer and his hand fell on her shoulder. “Come, I have croissants in the library. I need to show you something amiss.”

She followed him up to his favorite spot and he set his mug on the table beside the wingback. His fingers traced the spines of the books. She leaned her butt against the rail that looked out over the solarium. “You have remarkably little here on early Tevinter History. All these 'gifts' to the Inquisition and the best they can do is the _Malefica Imperio_? Trite propaganda... But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it...” he removed one of the books and tossed it dismissively over his shoulder. Evelyn watched it flop down over the rail and into Solas' space. Luckily he was elsewhere.

She sipped on her coffee, realizing that he had added cream to it for her. She closed her eyes and savored it. She uttered a soft chuckle. “That's the Dorian I know, critiquing every book in my library.”

“I wouldn't have to,” he said tipping his head over his shoulder. “If you could find some rebellious heretic archivist to join the cause.”

“ _Are_ there rebellious archivists? Other than you, that is?” she asked, still amused at his tiff.

He turned to face her. “If Corypheus ever starts burning masterworks of literature, I'm sure a few will pop up.” His fingers went to his chin as he glanced back at the shelves. “Did I see something by Gentivi here? I could have sworn...”

She set down her mug beside his and approached him. “What is this about, Dorian?”

“What else could it be about?” he asked her with a raised brow. “What happened at Adamant, of course. We went into the Fade. _Physically_ went in. Are you...” he paused, turning and laying his hands on her upper arms. “all right?”

Her grief was stirred up at his words. She lifted her arms to hug her own gut as it railed against her. “Stroud... is gone.”

Dorian clucked his tongue and pulled her against him in a tight hug. “The Fade is an ordeal under normal circumstances. To be the only real thing there... beyond description. That any of us made it out alive is difficult to believe.” He pulled away, his hands returning to her arms. “You do realize this feat hasn't been performed in over a thousand years...” He released her with a squeeze of his hands. “Corypheus and his contemporaries entered the Fade and began the blights. In comparison...”

“At least you were at my side,” she said, rubbing her own arms and giving him a smile.

He chuckled. “No offense, but I'd almost rather I hadn't been.”

“No sense of adventure?” she teased. “That's surprising.”

“I've not your talent for survival... and not everyone is as discerning as I,” he reminded her, his expression calm but wary. “If you can walk in the Fade, others will try to follow. Who knows what secrets Corypheus has revealed? Not all of them will be as lucky as you. What they could unleash... My advice? Keep this quiet. Let them speculate. Too many will see this as a challenge.”

The weight of his words gave her pause. “That's a good idea,” she sighed.

He smiled at her agreement. “There are enough idiots in the world who think if they just use enough blood magic, their problems will vanish. It's exactly the sort of thing I want to stop back home. This... this I don't need...” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What I _do_ need is a copy of the _Liberalum..._ I'll wager I can find Corypheus' real name. If I can prove he was a grasping ankle biter with no family to speak of... The luster would come right off.”

“You think that's possible?” She asked moving to stand beside him and glance over her own library. She was always so busy, she hadn't read a good book in ages.

His expression changed to one of curiosity as he leaned over toward her and buried his nose in her hair. When she raised a brow and stepped back, he grinned wickedly. “It is very faint, sweetheart, but _you_ smell of Templar.” When she felt the blood rush to her cheeks, he laughed lightly. “Am I to assume that you and our dear Commander have finally taken the plunge?”

“Maker, I need to bathe before Vivienne gets near enough to smell me,” she groaned.

He sneered at the mention of Vivienne. “I fail to see how your happiness is any of _her_ business.” He slipped past her and picked up both their mugs, handing hers back to her. “Now, I wish details...”

 

Everyone needed something. Evelyn found herself on the road more often than not. First, she had to go to Sahrnia to investigate the mine that Samson was supposedly getting his Red Lyrium from. It turned out that the woman who owned the mine had sold it to the Red Templars and they had subsequently begun kidnapping and using the townsfolk to grow the Lyrium. Her report was vague because she couldn't bring herself to put the horrible mess in writing. When she returned to Skyhold, Cullen greeted her with a concerned frown. “I've been reading the letters found in the quarry. Samson is making Red Lyrium from _people_?”

“Not anymore. Not in that mine,” she sighed, hugging herself. They had freed dozens in the quarry from the cages they had been packed in like animals.

Cullen paced behind his desk. “I knew Samson had fallen, but this? It's monstrous. We have to put an end to him.” he lightly punched down on the wood before sighing. “Look at these orders from the encampment.” He handed her a stack of parchment then gave her an overview as she flipped through them. “That armor must give Samson extraordinary power. We may not be able to stop him.”

“Take away his armor and the Lyrium, and Samson's just another man,” she assured him, setting the papers back on his desk.

“I couldn't say how,” he said with a sigh. “Templars are trained _not_ to destroy sensitive magical equipment... Perhaps Dagna has some ideas? She crafts the impossible every day.”

“I'll go and ask her,” Evelyn agreed, giving him a reassuring smirk. She rounded his desk. “I've been gone for weeks. Can I trust you'll stop by tonight?” She walked her fingers up his chest over his cuirass, wiping the sneer from his face.

His hands found her hips. “You can count on it,” he said with a lopsided grin. He leaned down and kissed her softly, promises of a long night hidden in his tongue as it slipped in her mouth.

She reluctantly pulled away and sighed. “I need to go. I have companions to coddle.”

Before she made it out of the door, he said as an afterthought. “Oh, Ev. Leliana informs me that the amulet you asked her to locate for Cole has arrived.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I'll see you later.”

Evelyn headed for the Undercroft where Harritt had set up his smithing equipment. He and Dagna could often be found there with their heads together, cooking up miraculous pieces of ingenuity. Sure enough, the dwarf was there, teasing Harritt about his hammering technique.

“Dagna?” Evelyn said in greeting, the dwarf spinning to turn a cheerful grin on her. “What have you learned of Samson?”

“He should be dead!” she said emphatically. “I mean, you could make a _hat_ out of Red Lyrium and kill people, especially the wearer. Samson's armor, it's genius. To do all this and not go insane, it must be resistant, or he _is_ insane... or both...”

“You're not comforting me, Dagna... he's dangerous either way,” Evelyn said, crossing her arms.

“Oh, fine,” Dagna waved her hand. “I just need time. And tools. People. And Red Lyrium. For tests, you see?”

“Is that wise?” Evelyn asked, raising a brow.

“Everything is safe if handled properly. And you don't touch it long. Or breathe it. I mentioned the hat, right? No hat... Time and resources, Inquisitor. I'll get what you want. Now, shoo! I've got work to do.”

Having been thoroughly dismissed, Evelyn shuffled away to find Leliana and head to the war room to set someone to getting Dagna the things she needed.

“Cullen said you have something for me?” she said softly, approaching Leliana who was sitting and hovering over a parchment laid flat on the table in front of her. Her Ravens cawed quietly as the spymaster lifted her head to regard Evelyn. “Yes of course.” She slid a small lock-box toward Evelyn who picked it up to cradle it against her chest.

“What's that?” she asked indicating the apparently very interesting letter on the table.

“A message. From Divine Justinia,” Leliana gasped as if she were only just now fully grasping what she was looking at.

“Dead people usually don't send messages,” Evelyn said cautiously.

Leliana looked up and frowned. “And I see you feel it necessary to inform me of this... This message was written months, perhaps even years ago... to be delivered to me if she died. I've heard of such contingency plans. A sudden death often leaves loose ends. I'm to go to Valence, a small village on the Waking Sea. There is something hidden there.”

“I'll help in whatever way I can,” Evelyn offered, feeling the need to make up for her suspicion of the letter.

“Wonderful.” Leliana stood from her chair and smiled. “I was hoping you would agree to come with me to Valence.” Evelyn nodded and before she could turn and leave, Leliana interrupted. “One more thing. If what is hidden in Valence is as valuable as I think, we're not going to be the only ones looking for it. We should not delay long.”

After leaving Leliana, Evelyn hunted down Cole in his usual place in the tavern attic. He was intently listening to the bard Maryden who Evelyn had discovered had been writing epic songs about the entire Inquisition. Evelyn approached Cole quietly, knowing he was aware she was there. “I found the amulet that Solas told us about. Would you like to try it on?”

He glanced at her in excitement. “Yes! But not here. I like it here. We need some place that can go away if it becomes sharp.” Cole refused to touch the amulet until they were out of the tavern. He scurried quickly toward the keep and into the solarium. Solas was there, brush in hand, working on his latest addition to the mural. “What do I do with it?”

“You found one of the amulets?” Solas set down his brush and approached Evelyn with a raised brow. “Excellent. May I?” He took the amulet from the lockbox and studied it momentarily. “It is simple enough. You put it on, I charge it with magic, and you should be protected.”

Evelyn snorted, closing the box and setting it on a nearby table. “We know it's not going to work, right? It never _just works_.”

Solas smiled briefly. “Have faith, Inquisitor.”

Cole slipped the amulet over his floppy hat and Solas reached out. Evelyn felt the tug of mana as he lightly pushed some magic toward the amulet. For a moment, she was hopeful until the air thinned around them, sucking the air briefly from her lungs. A loud pop echoed inside her head and Cole cried out, backing up a few steps as the spell backfired. As she recovered from the botched magic, Varric entered the room. “What was that?” He glanced around and surveyed the scene. “Oh for... what are you doing to the kid?”

Cole turned to face Varric, his hands wringing. “Stopping blood mages from binding me like the demons at Adamant. But it didn't work.”

“Something is interfering with the enchantment,” Solas announced, his hands clasping behind his back.

“Something like Cole not being a demon?” Varric asked snidely, crossing his arms and glaring at Solas.

Evelyn sighed. “Solas, is it possible that the amulet doesn't work on Cole because he's too... human?”

Solas spoke to her as if scolding a child. “Regardless of Cole's special circumstances, he remains a spirit.” He glanced away from her.

“Yes, a spirit who is strangely like a person!” Varric said, his tone leading.

“ _I_ don't matter! Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow!” Cole shouted, pacing away from them.

Solas followed him, addressing the back of his head. “Focus on the amulet. Tell me what you feel.”

Cole paused, resuming the wringing of his hands. “Warm, soft blanket covering, but it catches, tears, I'm the wrong shape, there's something...” he turned and pointed. “There... that way.”

“It appears we have something to find,” Evelyn sighed. “I told you it never just works...”

“All right, kid. Get Cullen and work with him on the map to figure out where you're sensing something wrong,” Varric suggested.

“Will you come with me? All of you?” Cole asked, his tone desperate.

“Sure,” Varric answered for all of them. Cole flitted off, probably to find Cullen and Evelyn sighed. “All right, I get it. You like spirits.” Varric approached Solas. “But he came into this world to be a person. Let him be one.”

“If I see a way to protect Cole without taking away... whatever he is, I'll use it. But Cole clearly needs our help,” Evelyn agreed. She was mildly shocked to discover that she had grown very fond of the boy, even though he sometimes crossed the privacy line when it came to reading people's thoughts.

“I'm not saying we do nothing,” Varric said holding up his hands. “But that ritual of theirs only works on demons, right?”

“This is not some fanciful story, child of the stone,” Solas remarked snidely. “We cannot change our nature by wishing.”

“You don't think?” Varric remarked back.

Solas glanced away momentarily. “However we deal with the problem, our next step is to track down whatever is interfering with the enchantment.”

 

Evelyn and Leliana traveled alone to Valence. It was indeed a very small village, the Chantry likely able to fit inside the one they had left behind in Haven. When they entered, Leliana knelt reverently before the large statue of Andraste to pay her respects. Evelyn glanced around curiously. “It is just as I remember it,” Leliana said with a soft smile.

“You didn't tell me you'd been here before,” Evelyn said distractedly as she tried to find anyone else lingering around. All was quiet.

“After the Blight ended, I came here to see Justinia. She was just Dorothea then, a Revered Mother.” Leliana smiled at the memory.

“I didn't expect it to be so... deserted. It makes me uneasy,” Evelyn finally admitted.

“It's a small village, and it's too early for the Chant. I'm sure the sisters are somewhere,” Leliana assured her.

As if summoned by her words, a Chantry sister appeared from the main area of the Chantry. She passed right by Evelyn and spoke to Leliana. “Leliana? Is that you?”

“Sister Natalie!” Leliana purred. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Val Royeaux.”

“No. I've been here since Justinia died. This place makes me feel like... Like she is still with us.” Leliana embraced the sister and her eyes lifted behind the woman's back to shake her head slightly at Evelyn, indicating trouble. Evelyn stiffened her back and tried to remain casual.

“Inquisitor, this is Natalie, a trusted friend,” Leliana introduced Evelyn.

“Wait! 'Inquisitor'? You... You brought the Inquisitor here?” Natalie was obviously flustered. “My lady,” she dropped to a knee. “Forgive me for not recognizing you earlier.”

Evelyn chuckled, keeping her tone light while Leliana silently worked out what was off about Natalie. “You owe me twenty readings of the Canticle of Trials for that insult.”

“She doesn't mean it,” Leliana snorted at Natalie's horrified look. The sister stood and Leliana continued. “Natalie, listen. There is something hidden here. Something Justinia left for me.”

“Oh, really? What is it?” Natalie asked with curiosity.

“I don't know. But we'll find it. I'm curious to see what brought us all here,” she smiled. “Justinia's letter came with instructions for me. They were a little cryptic.” Evelyn listened closely as Leliana recited the clues. “Always remember that faith sprung from a barren branch. That light has no fear of darkness. Above all, that strength lives in an open heart.”

“She must be hinting at something in here,” Natalie suggested. “Let's look around.”

As they separated to search, Leliana sighed. “I was in a cloister in Lothering when the Blight began. There was a lot of fear back then... No one knew what was going to happen. Whether we would live or die. And then, one morning, I found a single bloom on a dead rosebush, and I thought, 'Even in the midst of all this, life finds a way. The Maker hasn't abandoned us'.” As she spoke, Evelyn spotted a painting to her right mounted to the wall. It depicted a gnarled and thorny bush with a single bloom at it's center. She approached the painting and found beneath it's frame, a hidden mechanism. She activated it and heard a soft click from the inside of the chapel. That was clue one. “Do they still sing verses from the benedictions every Friday? That canticle was Justinia's favorite.”

As Natalie answered, Evelyn noticed the braziers gleaming around the statue of Andraste that Leliana had paid homage to. She moved in to examine them. “Yes, of course. We'd never give up the traditions of our most beloved Divine.”

“That is lovely to hear,” Leliana sighed. Evelyn found another mechanism behind one of the braziers. She erected a small barrier so she could reach over the fire and pull it from the stone. Another click. Leliana continued. “I stare up at the Breach sometimes. It's terrifying, but beautiful in its way.”

“It is beautiful,” Natalie agreed. Evelyn had thought much the same herself after it has stopped trying to kill her.

She moved away from the brazier and looked around for an open heart. Leliana brushed along the walls on the opposite side of the room. “Have you seen it by sunrise?”

“When the sun rises through it, it splits into what looks like a thousand suns like a broken mirror,” Natalie described.

“Yes, Spectacular isn't it,” Leliana said, her tone triumphant. Evelyn spotted another painting. It depicted a knight stabbing his sword through the open heart of a woman. She headed over and found the mechanism.

When the click resounded, Evelyn felt a breeze disturb her hair as if the air pressure in the room had shifted. “What was that?” Natalie asked.

“Looks like we opened something,” Leliana said with a smile as Evelyn located the mural that had been disturbed. It was split down the middle, ajar like a door. When she pulled open both sides to reveal another mural beneath of Andraste, the mural lifted to reveal a small alcove with an altar inside. A tiny ornate golden box stood in splendor atop the altar. As Evelyn stared, Leliana pulled a knife from her belt and quickly backed Natalie into the statue of Andraste, the knife poised at her throat. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Good old Leliana was playing you the whole time. Didn't you realize?” Evelyn asked backing from the alcove to cross her arms and smirk at the sister who glared at them both with disdain.

“They never sing the Benedictions here on Fridays, Natalie,” Leliana revealed. “Something so simple, and you got it so wrong. I wanted to believe, but you were lying from the start. Keep that pretty mouth shut if you must, dear. You've already told me everything I needed to know... The prickleweed burrs on your hem, talking about the sun rising through the Breach. It all points to a single place. Morelle in the Dales. Grand Cleric Victoire's Bastion. She sent you, didn't she? Victoire was always an opportunist.”

Evelyn was impressed. Cullen was right. Leliana was scary. “We don't have to be at odds, Natalie,” Evelyn offered. “You could come with us. Join the Inquisition.”

“I was called to serve the Grand Cleric. I will not betray her,” Natalie insisted angrily. “Kill me then. I am not afraid to die for my beliefs. At least I still know what I believe.”

“Release her, Leliana,” Evelyn sighed. “She is no threat.”

“The Grand Cleric...” Leliana protested, the knife digging closer to Natalie's throat.

“She is one woman. We are the Inquisition,” Evelyn reminded her gently.

“The Inquisitor has spoken,” Leliana said, stepping away and sheathing her knife. “Run. Tell your mistress that she has a choice. The Inquisition is coming.” Natalie left silently, her head hung low. Leliana rapidly approached the alcove to pick up the box. “No! This can't be it. There's nothing here!” she gasped.

“It's not what you expected. That doesn't mean it's nothing,” Evelyn said, remembering how Leliana had told her that Justinia had been a cryptic woman in life.

Leliana examined the box more closely. “There is a message, carved in the lid. 'The left hand should lay down her burden'. She... She's releasing me... The Divine has a long reach, but it is always her left hand that stretches out. A thousand lies, a thousand deaths. Her commands, but my conscience that bore the consequences.”

“She apologized in the Fade,” Evelyn said, the spirit's words finally making sense. “She said she failed you. This is what she meant.”

“All this time, Justinia carried the fear that she was using me. Just like I'd been used in the past. But Marjolaine's games were trifles. Justinia gambled with the fate of Nations. She needed me. No one else could've done what I did. She knows that.”

“Then you have to let it go. Let _her_ go. You don't owe her anything anymore,” Evelyn counseled, laying a hand on Leliana's shoulder.

“If it were not for you, I would've killed Natalie and called it a good thing.” She closed the box and collected it to turn a bright smile on Evelyn. “Thank you for showing me what was right when I couldn't see it for myself.” She cupped her cheek and landed a quick kiss on her forehead. Evelyn balked momentarily, but was less shocked when Leliana quickly pulled away and said, “Let's get back to Skyhold.”

 

She didn't even have a chance to change when she returned to an agitated Cole with a sliver of a map. They needed to go to Redcliffe. She sighed and with a quick wave to Cullen who was watching from his tower, turned back around with Cole, Varric and Solas in tow. Once they reached the city, Cole followed the amulet to a man who was speaking quietly to a dwarf. When he noticed them approaching, he excused the dwarf and his eyes flicked around as if he were looking for somewhere to run. “Greetings, can I help you?”

When he spoke, Cole suddenly sprung into action “You!” He flickered in and out of sight as he approached the man. Then the man was on his knees, Cole's hand on his forehead. “You killed me!”

The man held his hands up in complacency. “What? I don't... I don't even know you!”

“You forgot! You locked me in the dungeon in the Spire, and you forgot, and I died in the dark!” Cole shouted in rage.

“The Spire?” the man asked, some sort of recognition coming to his face.

“Cole, stop!” Solas demanded softly.

Cole took his hand from the man and he fled toward the Chantry up on the hill. Cole rounded on them before moving to stalk after the man. Varric scurried to step in his path. “Just take it easy, kid.”

“He killed me!” Cole pointed after the man. “He killed me. That's why it doesn't work. He killed me, and I have to kill him back!”

“Before anyone gets killed, I need to know what's going on,” Evelyn sighed, Cole's anger flowing through her like knives dragging across her skin.

“Cole, this man cannot have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body,” Solas said rationally.

Cole's eyes dropped to the ground, his hat completely blocking out his face. “A broken body, bloody, banged on the stone cell, guts gripping in the dark dank, a captured apostate.” Evelyn gasped as Cole's memory flashed across her mind, her own stomach painfully empty for a moment before she regained herself and he reigned in his power. “They threw him into the Dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death.” Evelyn could not see Solas' face, but Varric looked regretful. “I came through to help... and I couldn't. So I became him. Cole.”

Varric cringed. “If Cole was an apostate, that'd make the guy we just saw a templar. Must've been buying Lyrium,” he reasoned.

“Let me kill him...” Cole growled, passing Varric slowly, his fists clenched. “I need to... I need to.”

Evelyn looked to Varric, pleading. “Cole will never grow into a real person until he comes to terms with what happened.”

Somehow, to her, it was as important as breathing. Varric gave her a half smile. “Leave it to me.” Varric went after Cole getting ahead of the stalking boy. “All right, kid. You want revenge? come with me.”

They circled up to where the templar had fled. The man hadn't made it far, backing himself up against a cliff edge. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!” The man pleaded as Cole stared him down.

Varric pitched his voice loudly as he took Bianca from her holster and opened her up to be ready for use. “Sorry isn't going to help him now, is it, kid?”

“No,” Cole growled in anger. Evelyn's breath was strained as Cole affected her. What was their connection? Why was she so in tune with him? Solas nor Varric seemed affected at all.

“Pull the trigger and put him down like a mad dog,” Varric whispered, laying Bianca in Cole's hands. Cole steadied his footing and looked through the scope that Varric had mounted on Bianca. His emotions toiled in his chest, frightening Evelyn in their intensity. After what felt like forever, Cole took the shot, shouting in dismay as his aim purposefully hitched wide and missed the cowering templar. Evelyn breathed a sigh as Cole calmed, breathing heavily. Varric gently took Bianca from Cole. “How're you doing, kid? Feel any better?”

“No,” Cole wailed softly.

Varric laid a hand on Cole's elbow. “You can't make it all just go away. I learned that the hard way.”

Cole reached out to make the man, “Forget,” but Varric squeezed his arm.

“No. He needs to remember. You, too.” Moments passed and a sudden warmth flowed over Evelyn as Cole's emotions retracted from her. “We're done here.”

It was a long silent ride back to Skyhold. When they returned, Cole wandered off, not flitting on the wind as she was used to. As a matter of fact, she hadn't seen him disappear since Redcliffe. She was painfully aware of him, actually. She, Solas and Varric made their way up to the keep, stopping in the solarium amidst Solas' art. Solas finally decided to break his silence. “For all we know, the amulet will now never function. Cole remains vulnerable to binding.”

“No he isn't,” Varric insisted. “The amulet didn't work because he's too human, right?” Solas looked away in disgust. “Maybe now the kid's also too human for that binding magic to work on him.”

“I hope you're right,” Solas sighed.

The door behind them clicked open and Cole came in, gripping his stomach. Evelyn felt a pang of pity. “It still hurts. When do I stop hurting?” he asked, his voice strained.

Evelyn offered him a sweet smile. “If you ever find the answer to that question, do let me know.”

“Come on, kid. Let's go for a walk. It'll clear your head,” Varric offered.

“The left hand misses a friend with two different names. She's hurting, sad, alone, but...” Cole looked up and pleaded to them. “Everyone can see me now. They remember. How do I put honey in Leliana's wine without her noticing?”

“I can help with that,” Varric sighed with a smile.

He led Cole back outside and Solas watched them go, his expression sad. “It is good that he is not entirely changed, however human he becomes.”

Evelyn left Solas with a smile and a pat on his shoulder. She was tired, but she needed a friend to share with. She glanced in two directions and decided to head up to the library. As she climbed the stairs, raised voices filtered to her attention. “I don't know what you think you're doing.” That was Mother Giselle.

Dorian's velvety voice followed with a retort. “I'm being clucked at by a hen, evidently.”

“Don't play the fool with me, young man,” she scolded as Evelyn crept up to listen.

“If I wanted to play the fool, I could be rather more convincing, I assure you,” Dorian growled angrily.

“Your glib tongue does you no credit,” Mother Giselle snapped in response.

“You'd be surprised at the credit my tongue gets me, Your Reverence,” Dorian purred.

Before things could get any further out of hand, Evelyn made her way the rest of the way up the stairs and stood at Dorian's side. “Oh, I...” Mother Giselle looked flustered at the sight of Evelyn.

Dorian had his arms crossed and he swayed on his feet, glaring at the Mother. He tipped a greeting to Evelyn who looked between the two of them and began to unclip some of her armor. “What's going on here?”

Dorian wasted no time. “It seems the Revered Mother is concerned about my 'undue influence' over you.”

“It _is_ just concern. Your worship, you must know how this looks,” Mother Giselle sighed.

“You might need to spell it out, my dear,” Dorian scowled.

The Mother sighed again. “This man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side, the rumors alone...”

Evelyn cut her off, stuffing both her gloves in one hand. “What's wrong with him being from Tevinter? Specifically?” Evelyn snapped.

“I'm fully aware that not everyone from the Imperium is the same,” Giselle said.

“How kind of you to notice,” Dorian said sarcastically. “Yet still you bow to the opinion of the masses?”

“The opinion of the masses is based on centuries of evidence. What would you have me tell them?” she asked in frustration.

“The truth?” Dorian asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

“The _truth_ is I do not know you, and neither do they. Thus these rumors will continue,” she retorted.

Evelyn sighed. “Oh? I'd like to know what these _rumors_ are, exactly,” she challenged.

In spite of her dark skin, the Mother flushed. “I... could not repeat them, your worship.”

“Repeat them? So you've shared them before?” Evelyn accused. Mother Giselle had gotten on Evelyn's nerves already when she had attempted to get rid of Dorian by lying to him about the letter from his family.

“I... see,” Giselle said cautiously. “I meant no disrespect, Inquisitor, only to ask after this man's intentions. If you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both.” She bowed her head curtly and backed away to leave.

“Well, that's something.” Dorian held his hand out, offering Evelyn a seat in his chair.

She flopped down gratefully and he gracefully placed himself before her on a stack of very comfortable pillows strewn about the floor. He helped by un-lacing her boots while she asked, “This sort of thing happens often, does it?”

He smiled coyly. “More than anyone tells you. No one knows their own reputation.” He set her boots aside and began rubbing her weary feet.

“Until someone helpfully informs them,” she smirked, kicking lightly to let him know he didn't need to be doing what he was doing.

He continued anyway. “There is that. She meant well, if that's of any concern... I should ask. Do the rumors bother you?”

She shrugged and snorted. “Why should it bother me? Everyone's talking about the Inquisition.”

He smiled widely. “That's good. I'd hate to think I brought you any grief. Perhaps it's odd to say, but... I think of you as a friend, Evelyn. I have precious few friends. I didn't think to find one here.”

She sat up a bit straighter with a smile. “I...”

“Don't speak,” he interrupted her, dropping her foot and placing both hands on her knees. “I detest confessions, and I'd like to get this over with.” He swallowed before continuing. “Allow me to say that I'll stand beside you... against Corypheus, my countrymen, or spurious rumor, so long as you'll have me.”

Evelyn was touched. She'd considered Dorian her best friend for quite some time, but she had not realized how deeply he cared for her. “Well, you'd better not leave. Then I'd be trapped with Solas and Vivienne.” she made a teasing sneer of disgust before playfully kicking him in the chest and tipping him backwards. He laughed loudly grabbing her leg and trying to pull her off the chair.

“And I let you sit in my chair, you cretin.”

 

Evelyn was back in Skyhold three days before Cassandra informed her that the people that Leliana had sent out months ago had finally discovered where the missing Seekers had gone to, so off they went on the ten day ride to Caer Oswin.

As they dismounted their horses near the stronghold's gate, Cassandra looked disturbed, glaring up at the fortress with curiosity. “Odd that the trail should lead us here. Bann Loren is a pious, unassuming man. What has he become involved in?”

Evelyn sighed, tying her horse's reins off on a nearby fence post. The fortress was large and too quiet for her tastes. She led her people around to the side of the castle. No way was she announcing their presence. “He's involved in 'crazy', just like everyone else these days,” she said trying a nearby door and finding it locked sent Cole to pick it open.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” the Seeker agreed as the door popped open and Cole smiled widely. “Let's see what lies within.”

Cole slipped inside first and a surprised gasp was cut short by a wet gurgle. He poked his head out and Evelyn followed him into the darkened hallway. The entire place smelled wrong to her. Cole guided her around the crumpled heap of the door guard and said, “He _promised_ he was more, but he was afraid.”

Cassandra grunted and knelt by the body to flip it onto its back. Evelyn had never seen the emblem emblazoned on the chest of his armor, but Cassandra sighed and then sneered. “Promisers. I should have known.” She stood and nudged the dead man with a toe and used her fingers to put quotes around their official name. “ 'The Order of Fiery Promise', is a cult with... strange beliefs about the Seekers. They've hounded us for centuries.”

“What kind of 'strange beliefs',” Evelyn asked, never having heard of the group.

They walked cautiously through the dark hallway, watching for more guards as Cassandra explained. “They believe _they_ are Seekers... the only rightful ones. They say we robbed their powers long ago, preventing them from ending the world.”

“Ending the world?” Evelyn gasped.

“The only way to truly eradicate evil, in their eyes. 'The world will be reborn a paradise'. It's all nonsense,” she sighed with a short noise of disgust.

“Why haven't the Seekers dealt with them?” Evelyn asked, still trying to wrap her mind around the ridiculous notion.

“We have. Many times. They simply reappear after a time, like weeds. Nobody knows how,” Cassandra growled.

Evelyn snorted “Cultists. Why am I not surprised?”

They headed into a small dungeon where they ran into more of the Promisers. Taking them by surprise, they killed them easily. Cassandra sighed. “This explains why the Seekers might be here, but not the connection to Corypheus.”

Evelyn agreed and they left the dungeon to find a way into the inner courtyard. They came out on a small balcony and followed it around to a set of stairs that led to the stables and outside training grounds. They were met by more Promisers and a few Red Templars. Cassandra brazenly searched the bodies, looking for clues. She came up with a letter on the body of the Captain.

She began to read aloud. “As the Seekers of truth have proven resistant to the effects of Red Lyrium, the Elder One has seen fit to place them in your care. Reclaim your destiny, and know the Elder One expects your devotion as repayment... Signed by Lord Samson, Commander of the Red Templars...” she sighed heavily and them glanced at Evelyn. She shook the paper at her. “Does Corypheus not realize the Promisers want the world to end? What use are they to him?”

“Corypheus will probably betray them before they get their chance,” Evelyn pointed out. He was using them to eliminate the Seekers. Nothing more.

“But after he gets what he needs out of them,” Cassandra agreed, her arm dropping limply to her side. “But this doesn't explain how he captured the Seekers in the first place, or what's been done with them. We must keep looking.”

Evelyn cocked her head at the hard woman and saw the fear buried deep in her eyes. “The letter said Seekers were resistant to Red Lyrium.”

Cassandra sneered, likely realizing that Evelyn was backhandedly trying to soothe her. “Our abilities grant us many gifts, but a resistance to Red Lyrium's corruption. That seems strange. Although it would explain why none have numbered among the Red Templars. And thus Seekers would be useless to Corypheus. He would have no leash to hold us.”

“Do you really want to keep looking? What we find might not be pleasant,” Evelyn offered cautiously.

“I do not shy away from unpleasant things. I must know,” Cassandra insisted, turning away and heading for the Keep's main entrance.

Inside there were more of the Promisers, but no Red Templars. It made clearing the main hall much easier. Cassandra moved like a battering ram through the threat, her path clearly laid out before her. She was furious. Up the stairs and out of the main hall they came to a large mezzanine that separated the main hall from the apartments and the upper courtyard. Sitting rather out of place at the bottom of a wide flight of stone stairs was a young man. Cassandra gasped and ran to him, “Daniel? Daniel, can you hear me?” She knelt before him, her hands hovering as if she were unsure if she should touch him.

Evelyn slowly approached as the man coughed out a greeting. “Cassandra?” He was clutching his gut, but there was no visible wound on him. His shaved head gave them a spectacular view of the blackened veins that stuck out in contrast to his sickly pale skin. His eyes were sunken and ringed with black circles. Dorian lightly gripped Evelyn's shoulder to keep her from getting too close. “It _is_ you. You're alive.”

“As are you,” Cassandra sighed, her expression stricken. “I'm so glad I found you.”

“No, they... put a demon inside me. It's tearing me up.” He grunted in pain.

“What? You can't be possessed! That's impossible,” Cassandra gasped.

He shook his head. “I'm not possessed. They... fed me things. I can feel it growing...”

Evelyn gently shrugged Dorian's hand away and knelt beside Cassandra. “Can a demon be _grown_ inside someone?”

“ _Savages!_ I will tear every last one of them apart!” Cassandra growled.

“No,” Daniel gasped with urgency, reaching of Cassandra. “The Lord Seeker.”

“Of course we'll find him. If he lives, we'll...” Cassandra said taking the boy's outstretched hand in hers.

“Lucius betrayed us, Cassandra. He sent us here, one by one. 'An important mission', he said... Lies! He was here with them all along. He's still working with them,” Daniel spat.

“But we met Lord Seeker Lucius in Val Royeaux,” Evelyn pointed out, trying to figure out how the man could have been in two places at the same time. Was this like in Redcliffe? Time manipulation? Or something worse? “He couldn't have been here.”

“That wasn't him,” Daniel explained. “It was a demon, masquerading.”

 _Everyone wears masks in Val Royeaux,_ Evelyn thought bitterly. “What!?” Cassandra gasped. “How could that be?”

“The Lord Seeker allowed it. He let the demon take command, while he...” Daniel was struggling.

“Came here,” Cassandra finished for him.

“Would he really work with these cultists?” Evelyn asked Cassandra with disgust in her own tone.

“I intend to find out,” Cassandra answered, her anger flaring.

Evelyn sighed, standing. “Wait!” Daniel pleaded. “Don't leave me like this, please...”

Evelyn backed away with a look from Cassandra. The Seeker then turned back to the boy. “You should have come with me. You didn't believe in the war any more than I did.”

“You know me, I wanted that promotion,” he answered with a coughing chuckle.

“Go to the Maker's side, Daniel. You will be welcome.” Cassandra hugged the boy with one arm before her other came out with a dagger. She cleanly slit his throat and hung her head. When she looked up, it was with rage that she stood. Her hands trembled as she slipped the dagger back into her belt. “He was my apprentice. I have never known a finer young man. _Now_ we find Lord Seeker Lucius.”

She stalked up the stairs and Evelyn followed closely, glad that Cassandra was not mad at her. The air was oppressive with her anger. They met little resistance between them and the Lord Seeker. He was outside in a small courtyard garden near the front entrance as if he had been expecting them to waltz in the front door.

“Lord Seeker Lucius,” Cassandra spat, turning his name into an accusation.

“Cassandra... with a woman I can only assume is the new Inquisitor,” Lucius held a lack luster smile on his face.

“And you're the man who betrayed his own Order,” Evelyn growled, pointing an accusing finger at him to match Cassandra's tone.

“I presume you know we Seekers of Truth were once the original Inquisition. Oh, yes. We fought to restore order in a time of madness long ago, as you do now... And we became proud. We sought to remake the world... to make it better. But what did we create? The Chantry. The Circles of Magi. A war that will see no end,” he spat bitterly, the smile disappearing.

“ _We_ are not the original Inquisition,” Evelyn reminded him.

“Of course you say that now,” he warned.

“So you did all this because you hate our Order?” Cassandra asked, her anger fizzling to a confused sadness.

“We Seekers are abominations, Cassandra. We created a decaying world, and fought to preserve it even as it crumbed. We had to be stopped,” he said with a sigh. He reached out and one of the men standing at his back handed him a large ancient tome. “You don't believe me? See for yourself. The secrets of our Order, passed to me after the former Lord Seeker was slain. The war with the Mages had already begun, but it was not too late for me to do the right thing.”

“And _this_ ,” Evelyn held out her arms, encompassing the keep. “was the right thing?”

“Lord Seeker...What you've done...” Cassandra shook her head.

“I know,” he admitted, sadly. “What Corypheus did with the Templars does not matter. I have seen the future. I have created a new Order to replace the old. The world will end so we can start anew... A pure beginning. Join us Cassandra. It is the Maker's will!” he preached, pleading on deaf ears.

Cassandra snarled as she pulled her sword and bore down on him. Evelyn's staff was in her hands immediately. The Lord Seeker seemed not to understand right away what was happening. His shield nearly didn't make it up to block Cassandra's attack. Evelyn's spirit bolt slipped under his guard, knocking him back. Dorian drew his palms together and when they separated, ice sprang up around the Lord Seeker. Cole flitted around the three other men that had been in the courtyard with Lucius, thin red slices appearing over their bodies as he snagged them with his daggers. Even as changed as he was, Cole was still hard to keep track of on the battlefield with his own special brand of magic. Evelyn uncoiled her mana and called a firestorm down on the bleeding men. Cassandra needed no help with the Lord Seeker. She cut him down not only with her sword, but with her anger to back her up. When the courtyard laid empty, Cassandra breathed heavily, sweating under her armor. She slung her shield onto her back and sheathed her sword to bend and pick up the tome that the Lord Seeker had abandoned. “He was insane. He had to be,” she whispered softly, her fingers tracing the Chantry symbol on the cover of the book. “The Influence of Corypheus, perhaps. Was he trying to disable the Seekers?”

“All these wasted lives...” Evelyn sighed, glancing around at the dead that laid all around.

“He could not have destroyed all of us. I won't accept it,” Cassandra growled, then sighed herself. “Let us return to Skyhold. I wish to see what's in this 'Book of Secrets'.”

 

Cassandra read each night after they set up camp, barely taking the time to eat anything before burying her nose in the thick tome. Evelyn watched as each night, her usual stoic attitude slumped farther into a concerned thoughtfulness that apparently warranted many glances in Evelyn's direction. The evening of their seventh day, Evelyn could no longer take the suspense. She warned Dorian and Cole away and quietly approached Cassandra where she sat cross legged by the fire. Evelyn draped herself over a nearby log and watched Cassandra until the other woman sighed heavily. She closed the book and without looking at Evelyn said, “This tome has passed from Lord Seeker to Lord Seeker, since the time of the old Inquisition... And now it falls to me.”

“That's a lot of... not very exciting reading, apparently,” Evelyn quipped and Cassandra graced her with a weary smile.

“On the contrary, it's a delight. I'm riveted,” the woman returned, her own tone sarcastic.

“Oh, you're _joking_!” Evelyn said in delight.

Another sigh slipped from Cassandra before she began to speak again. “I assume you know about the Rite of Tranquility.” Evelyn cringed, thinking of the many Tranquil that had roamed the Ostwick Circle, hawking wares and looking so... empty. Cassandra continued, ignoring Evelyn's discomfort. “The last resort used on mages in the Circle, leaving them unable to cast but depriving them of dreams and all emotion.” Cassandra held up her hand against Evelyn's protest. “It should only be used on those who cannot control their abilities... but that has not always been the case.”

“You mutilate mages,” Evelyn said a bit more harshly than she intended.

Cassandra laced her fingers together, resting her hands on the book, her back straightening. “I always thought it a necessary evil... What finally began the Mage rebellion was a discovery the Rite of Tranquility could be reversed. The Lord Seeker at the time covered it up... harshly. There were deaths. It was dangerous knowledge. The shock of it's discovery in addition to what happened in Kirkwall... But it appears we've _always_ known how to reverse the Rite. From the beginning.”

Evelyn took a moment to collect her jaw from the ground before responding. “So, the rebellion could have been prevented.”

“Perhaps, but it was a long time coming, for many reasons.” Cassandra hung her head, as if contemplating how to phrase what she was going to say next. When she looked up, she said. “We created the Rite of Tranquility. I told you of my vigil... The months I spent emptying myself of all emotion? I was made Tranquil, and did not even know. Then the vigil summoned a spirit of faith to touch my mind. That broke Tranquility and gave me my abilities. The Seekers did not share that secret. Not with me, not with the Chantry, not even with...” She paused and set the book down to stretch her back. “There's more. Lucius was not wrong about the Order. I thought to rebuild the Seekers once victory was ours. Now I'm not certain it deserves to be rebuilt.”

Evelyn felt a pang of guilt. “I don't think I've ever seen you so shaken,” she said.

“I do not think the Seekers have been doing the Maker's work. Not truly.” She sighed and set sad eyes on Evelyn. “Perhaps we believed it, once. The original Inquisition came to be during a terrible time. But now? We harbored secrets and let them fester. We acted to survive, but not to serve. That is _not_ the Maker's work.”

The right path was clear to Evelyn. Cassandra was an honorable woman who believed more in the Maker than herself most days. “Rebuild the Seekers. Make them better than they were,” Evelyn insisted with a shrug.

Cassandra smiled and held out her hand. Evelyn took it and accepted the confident squeeze. “Thank you. I could not have done this on my own.”

 

Back at Skyhold, Evelyn had a surprise waiting for her. After their reunion the evening of her return, Evelyn woke to a bed with sheets that smelled of Cullen, but not the man himself. There was a note on the pillow beside her that asked her to meet him down by the training yard. She dressed and grabbed her staff as a point of habit. She made her way down to the ring that was set up near the stables in the lower courtyard. Awaiting her in a casual tunic and leathers stood her templar. The morning sun kissed his blonde waves, making the lopsided grin on his face shine even brighter. “It's about time. Normally you are insufferably early to rise.”

She stopped outside the ring and put her hands on her hips. “What can I say? You kept me up rather late last night.”

She basked in the light flush that she drew to his cheeks in spite of his widening grin. “In that case, I'll try and go easy on you.” He pulled his sword from where he'd planted it in the dirt beside him and picked up his shield. She watched him flex his arms and roll his shoulders, getting comfortable with the weight of his weapons. “That's cheating,” he chuckled, pointing his sword toward her as she realized she was biting her lip as she stared.

She grinned, releasing her lip from between her teeth and said, “So I'm not just here to watch?”

He beckoned her into the ring. “I thought, since we've had trouble finding the time to practice together, I would catch you first thing in the morning before you make your rounds and someone else steals your attention from me.”

She bent and climbed through the wooden slats of the simple fence. She took in his stance. One she had seen before in many templars. His feet were wide, his sword peeking from behind his shield that was pointed slightly downwards to block splash damage from any spell that might be thrown at him. “Would you like me to use my staff?”

He nodded. “If I am to learn to work beside you, I'll need to learn your body language on the battlefield. Last time, I didn't see you preparing to Fade Step. It was a critical error that almost got both of us killed.”

She pulled her staff from it's strap and immediately began to store a slew of spells that she might use on any given rift. The runes on its shaft glowed in response to her attention and he watched closely as her fingers danced along the length of the wood. She explained what she was doing and he nodded intently, his eyes memorizing her movements. “So how do you want to do this?” she asked when she was done. “I'm not comfortable throwing many of these spells directly at you.”

“That is where we come in!” Dorian appeared with Bull at his side. The two looked devious as they walked side by side.

“Cullen asked if I'd be willing to let you throw spells at me while he watched,” Bull rumbled with a grin.

“And I am to provide magical protection so you don't break our biggest front line man,” Dorian grinned, crossing his arms and studying his fingernails.

“And it's not even my birthday,” Evelyn grinned, glancing at Cullen who was chuckling.

“Well, there is a catch,” Cullen interrupted. “I will be throwing in scenarios and quite possibly interrupting your casting. I'd like to see you work under pressure. Your reactions to certain things is key knowledge for me to have.”

She nodded and adjusted her stance to be able to sight Cullen as well as Bull. It was a subtle adjustment that she hoped went unheeded. “Okay... I'm ready when you are.”

She felt Dorian's barrier come down around not only Bull but Cullen as well. Dorian had noted her stance change. She grinned and winked at him where Cullen couldn't see and began to spin her staff as she uncoiled her mana from the spindle in her chest. Bull charged her, swinging a much smaller hammer than she was used to seeing him with. It looked comically tiny in his hands. She ducked his swing and reached out to smack his gut with her staff on his blind side. She had known he left himself open many times on that side. She danced around behind him and flicked her fingers to lay a glyph in front of her that would explode with flames when he stepped on it. Then she backed up to charge her staff with mana, spinning it slowly to taunt and draw him to her, right through the trap. She noted Cullen nod slightly and her eyes narrowed. When Bull raced toward her, she realized that her carefully laid trap had been dispelled. She knelt and channeled her magic directly to her finger tips, disregarding her staff momentarily to erect her own barrier and block Bull from reaching her. He bounced off the barrier inches from where she knelt and she pushed to her feet and used his moment of confusion to draw a line in the sand with the head of her staff, marking the boundaries of the spell. When he broke through her barrier and came at her again. She balled her hand into a fist and punched the air forward. Spikes of ice sprang from the ground like deadly stalagmites making her cringe as they glanced off Bull' protection and shattered. Dorian's barrier was strong. She rolled under Bull's swing and when she came to her feet she threw a fireball at him. As he recovered and came at her again, she was suddenly blinded by another templar ability that they called 'wrath of heaven'. A large pillar of bright white light descended in front of her, making it nearly impossible to see where she was casting. She grunted and then held her breath to listen for Bull's footsteps coming toward her. She felt the change in the air as he switched directions thinking to sneak up behind her. She reached out with the butt of her staff towards the sound of his boots hitting the dirt. She connected with his gut, drawing an 'oomph' from him as she blinked frantically, trying to get her sight back. It returned in tiny white stars in her vision before clearing. She spun her staff once more, connecting with his chest again, this time with the ornate dragon on the head of the staff. She danced out of his way and dropped to one knee again to summon another spell to her palms. She did this hoping to trick Cullen into believing she was casting another barrier. He took her bait, the dispel falling on a non existent barrier. She grinned, and then flicked her wrist toward him the spell lifting a small wave of dirt that smacked into his shield and made him stumble backwards. He had not expected her to retaliate. She heard Dorian's snicker as he watched from the sidelines. Bull still charged her and she waited until he was on top of her to duck under his defenses and come up again with the staff and whack him in the side. Bull grunted and she dropped a cone of fire around him that blazed so hot that he didn't dare step out of it, even with Dorian's barrier. When the smite hit, she was ready. The air was sucked from her chest, along with all of her mana reserves. She dropped to her knees, panting as the fire around Bull died. Bull rushed her and she swallowed the strength she had left. She took the mana she had stored in her staff and lashed out with a stone fist, knocking Bull on his back. She planted the butt of her staff in the ground and used it to pull herself back to her feet. Bull was struggling to get up and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cullen taking advantage of her weakness and her distraction. He charged her and his shield barely connected with her shoulder as she backpedaled out of reach. He had used smite, thinking that as a mage, she was useless without her magic. Evelyn had learned a lot in her months on the road after the fall of the Circle. Cullen's greatest defense against spells was also his biggest weakness. The shield, pointed to the ground left his upper body all but exposed to her. When he kept coming, she reached out with her staff. The shaft connected with the barrier Dorian had erected around him, the shockwave realistically knocked him backwards and she took advantage of his arms flailing to help him remain standing. His shield lifted and she reached in to hook her staff around his ankles and trip him. He went to the ground with an audible rush of air escaping his lungs. She kicked his shield from his arm and put the butt of her staff to his throat. Thinking she'd won, she smirked down at him, but he used the flat end of his sword to slap the back of her knee. Her knee jerked and she lost her balance. He abandoned his sword and grabbed for her leg, pulling it out from under her. She toppled, too late trying to use her staff to stay upright. She landed in a heap beside him, but he was weaponless. She lifted her arm and flipped her staff so she could slam the head down into his gut. He blocked the blow with his hand, wrenching the staff towards him. She refused to let go and was dragged with it. She had enough time to recharge her mana. Her palm blazed with fire and she pressed it to his face where Dorian's barrier absorbed the spell. Cullen reared back as best he could with his back on the ground and her on top of him. “All right, all right!” he called for her to yield. She reigned in her magic and smiled down at him.

There was a chuckle from outside the ring. “I told you she's tougher than she looks, Curly.” Varric was grinning from ear to ear when she glanced up and saw they had attracted an audience. Bull was leaning on his hammer as Dorian checked him over for any wounds that may have slipped past his barrier. Around the ring, several soldiers and mages and even some of her inner circle were looking on as she had bested two warriors, one of which was a templar actively trying to take her magic out of the equation.

She glanced back down at Cullen who was gazing up at her in awe. “I think I should worry less when you ride off,” he smirked.

She got to her feet and held her hand down to help him up. “Do you think you know enough to fight alongside me, now?” she asked., brushing some dirt from his cheek.

His face reddened and he took her hand away from his face, squeezing it quickly before dropping it. “Perhaps a round or two more, if you're up for it.”

“Sure.” She picked up her staff from the ground and flipped it around a time or two. “Let me rebuild my mana and I'll be ready.”

“You were able to cast after I hit you with the smite. How did you do that?” he asked, in puzzlement as he gathered his sword and shield.

“After our little incident, I have begun storing mana in my staff just in case. It is not as effective as if I had spindled it directly from myself, but it works in a pinch,” she shrugged. “It's not a well known skill. I sort of devised it on my own.”

“That's brilliant,” he said, his eyes studying her. “Listen. I got some news.”

“What have you found?” she asked, noticing the intensity in his gaze.

“We have him, Ev. We've found Samson's lair... My duties usually keep me here, but for Samson, I'll make an exception,” he announced.

Evelyn bit her lip. “Samson still has that Red Lyrium Armor...”

“All the more reason for me to go. I would... sleep better, if I knew I would be at your side,” he said eagerly, his hand wrapping around her upper arm.

In truth, it would make her feel better as well. “Okay, we'll leave tomorrow morning.”

 

That night, just before dinner, she had gone to visit Sera. Just before she stepped into her colorful room, the elf spotted her and got up to drag her back into the hallway. “ _You_ have a problem.” She crossed her arms and glanced down over the rail into the bustling tavern below. “That, over there, is a full tavern, but everyone's drinking alone. They're all up their own arses about the Inquisition... _I_ can't have fun with everybody whinging. And they'll fall on their swords before Coryphespit can push them. I'm thinking pranks. Set a few up, knock a few down. You in or not?”

Evelyn cocked her head at Sera before glancing down into the group of people that were indeed eerily quiet as the bard, Maryden, sang sweetly by the fire, plucking away at her lute. “But I'm the Inquisitor. You know, the leader?”

“Right! They'll never suspect you,” Sera smirked, nudging Evelyn with her elbow. “What titles are only for getting away with bad stuff? Let's do something fun, come on!”

Evelyn admitted that it sounded like fun to play a few pranks on some of her people. “Lead the way...”

Sera's face slipped into shock. “What, really?”

“Really,” Evelyn assured her with a mischievous grin. She had grown up first with brothers and then among the other apprentices in the circle. Pranks were a large part of her life.

Sera giggled gleefully. “I knew you were different! Let's go!” She grabbed Evelyn's hand and dragged her up to the attic so they could get to the battlements. “I know just where to start.” Moments later, they were standing outside Cullen's doorway. Evelyn knew he was likely not in his office because he was making preparations for their trip in the morning. She knocked softly and when he didn't answer, she opened the door and Sera practically shoved inside behind her, tittering madly. “Right, general uptight is gone. Have a search about. Find something to mess with and give your soldiers a laugh,” Sera said, running over to the bookshelves. Evelyn glanced around Cullen's spartan space. She stepped up to the desk, running her fingers along the varnished wood and smiling at the pleasant memories that surfaced. “What, the desk?” Sera asked noticing Evelyn's attention. “Oh, yes! Center of the empire and all that. What to do, what to do...” Sera crossed her arms and rubbed her chin.

“All right, Sera. What do you want to do?” Evelyn asked, hoping it wasn't something that might give Cullen extra work. He worked too hard as it was anyway.

Sera frowned. “Thing looks heavy. Don't want to move or break it...”

“Oh, it's sturdy,” Evelyn assured her with a smirk.

Sera giggled loudly. “Ugh! Oh I got it, easy one!” She knelt and lifted the leg closest to her a fraction of an inch and slid a tiny bit of metal that looked like a flattened arrow head beneath it. Then she grinned. “Just a slip of something under here. There! Won't notice much, but it's just that little bit wonky. He's so in control, that'll piss him royally. I tell one of the soldiers, and Boom! The General seems like people. And since he works for you, _you_ seem like people... Come on, next one!”

Sera led them out of Cullen's office, through the solarium and the main hall and into Josie's office. The ambassador seemed to be out for dinner and Sera began picking through her things. Evelyn glanced around, hoping to help. “You don't think this is too easy?”

Josie was even more in control than Cullen, and that was saying something. Sera glanced up as Evelyn was swinging the entry door open and closed. “What just the door? Where she greets every important idiot! Yes!”

“Well, Sera? What do you have in mind?” Evelyn asked, likely thinking the same thing that Sera was.

Sera chuckled deviously. “Get a bucket!” Evelyn slipped quickly down to the kitchen and found a bucket and filled it with water. Sera was waiting in a frenzy when she reappeared, giggling excitedly. She dragged a chair over to the door and Evelyn handed the bucket up to her. After a few moments, they had the bucket set up the way they needed it and Sera dragged the chair back to it's rightful place. “Classic, yeah? Five minutes of sloppy boss gets you weeks of happy kitchen staff... Except for the one who cleans it up, I suppose. But whatever! Next stop!”

When they slipped carefully out the boobie trapped door and made their way up to the rookery, Evelyn found herself glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. Leliana had eyes everywhere and the Ravens cawing noisily made her feel even more watched. Sera seemed just as spooked, even turning down the chance to pick open a locked chest that Leliana had in the corner. They were talking quietly between each other when a voice rose from the other side of the solarium. “Hey! Who's up there?”

Evelyn panicked and grabbed Sera's arm. “Go!” she hissed and they took off running, Evelyn's heart racing and Sera giggling quietly behind her.

They made it back to the tavern which was by then all but deserted and Sera flopped down on a bar stool. “That was fun! An Inquisitor of the people, still remembering you're one of them,” Sera said happily. “If all they had was that Herald stuff, the serious bit, you'd start to sound pretty scary. That works, but not for long.”

Evelyn pulled up the stool beside her and breathed heavily as she laughed herself. “Whatever it takes. I'd start throwing pies if it kept people inspired.”

“Pies is so good! And Coryphetits would never do that. Good thing for you, innit? Because from the bottom, everyone up top sort of seems the same. Anyway, fun time, Evelyn.”

Just as Sera was standing to leave, the door of the tavern swung open and Josie's voice filled the room. “You!”

Evelyn spun to see her, sopping wet, her puffy sleeves sagging and her hair dripping. “Oh, Frig!” Sera said then turned and pointed to Evelyn. “You did it!” Evelyn watched with her mouth gaping as Sera ran off giggling maniacally.

Josie's fierce gaze fell on Evelyn and she shrank down in her stool, trying not to laugh at the puddle forming under the ambassador's feet. Instead of scolding her, Josie simply straightened her back and brushed her hands down her front then turned on her heel and squished out of the tavern. Evelyn couldn't help her snort after Josie was out of earshot. She glanced up where Sera had closed herself in her room and shook her head. It was time to go find out whether Cullen had noticed the irregularity with his desk.

 

“Are you certain your information was correct?” Evelyn hissed quietly as she gripped her staff in the eerie silence, walking closely beside Cullen as they approached the Shrine of Dumat.

“This is it,” he assured her. “The heart of Samson's Command.” His face was screwed up in an angry sneer as his eyes flicked every which way, taking in the utter desertion of the place.

“I don't see him anywhere... or hear him,” she sighed, her own eyes assessing the layout. Her skin prickled beneath her robes, and a shudder ran down her spine. The entire place felt stifling as if it could steal the very air from your lungs. She could tell Dorian could feel it too from the curl of his lip as he slowly spun his staff in his fingers.

“Nor I... Maker, tell me he hasn't fled,” Cullen growled before taking another step forward.

They moved as a group into the main courtyard and in the distance, toward the main entrance, Evelyn finally spotted movement. “Watch your flanks,” Bull growled. She stopped walking and glanced to her left and right. Off to each side, there were a few of the Red Templars with the bloated bodies, standing at the tops of two flights of stairs that led up to the balcony that led around to the staircase up to the main entrance.

The group automatically formed a circle, their backs to each other. “There are more up ahead,” Cullen noted, making certain that he wasn't the only one who had noticed them. “We're outnumbered.”

“We always are,” Evelyn sighed, her own staff joining Dorian's in a slow twirl between her fingers. “Cole, can you take the ones on the stairs to the left?”

“Your left or mine?” he asked, a small chuckle escaping as he moved to follow her orders. She grinned in response as Dorian snorted.

“Dorian, if you wouldn't mine, love?” Evelyn began to mutter under her breath the words that would call a tempest down on the Templars meandering ahead.

“My pleasure,” Dorian obliged. His barrier caressed over her skin as he laid protection down on all of them. Then he began to handle the bloated Templars to the right.

“Ready, Boss?” Bull grunted.

She nodded, finishing the final words to her spell and crouching to draw the energy down through her staff and outward toward the group before them. “Let's go,” she grinned, wading into the fray past a small encampment, likely used by the watch guard before they'd arrived. She walked confidently, twirling her staff as she went, firing small bursts of energy at each of the Tempars in turn. Bull and Cullen rushed past her, Bull with his hammer, and Cullen with his sword and shield. She rained magic down on the unsuspecting templars who were attempting to group together and avoid the crackling lightning storm all around them.

As they got closer to the tall stone stairway, more Red Templars and a few demons came into visual range. Evelyn targeted the fiery rage demon, drawing a glyph in the air before her and pushing the mana through in icy bolts that sought it out like a beacon. It growled angrily and began advancing on her. She dropped her staff head to the ground and drew a wall of ice up before her to spear the demon. As it attempted to melt through the spikes, she called more ice into it with a winter's grasp spell. The demon froze in place and she swung her staff around to shatter it. She turned away from the melting bits of demon and caught sight of Cullen bashing shields with a Red Templar. She saw Bull raise his hammer above his head and swat one of the tall spindly terror demons away from him then chase after it to get some more hits in. One of the templars not occupied had homed in on her and he came at her, shield held toward the ground. He charged, meaning to collide with her and she brought her staff around to crack into the side of his helmet. The noise reverberated loudly around the open space, echoing around inside her head. The dazed templar paused his charge, shaking his head. She took the opportunity to clench her fist, pulling the air around him to form one of her crushing prison spells. His body seized, and he dropped his shield, going rigid. Evelyn turned her attention briefly from him to handle the wraith that was slowly making its way to her. She channeled fire to her staff and pushed the head toward the wraith. The fireball shot from the dragon on the top of the staff and hurtled toward the wraith. It caught fire, with an unearthly shriek and she turned to see the templar fall dead as her spell ended. She felt a breath of air on the back of her neck and she spun around, recognizing a warning from Cole. There was another templar nearly right on top of her. She reacted, Fade stepping away from him before dropping a cone of fire around him that swirled toward the sky. Cole darted in, flicking around the templar and cutting him open with his daggers.

Evelyn surveyed the battlefield and noticed that he was the last of the threats. She opened her mouth to announce the all clear but before she could get the words out, a deafening crash resounded behind her. She spun to see that the door had been smashed from it's hinges. In it's place stood one of the behemoth shards of Red Lyrium that had once been a Templar. Evelyn cringed. “Maker's balls,” she cursed. She glanced at her people, wishing she had brought more ranged fighters. She noticed Cullen tensing to charge the beast and she held out a hand. “No! Don't get near it!”

Cullen jerked to a stop and threw a confused glance at her. “Why not?”

She didn't need to answer as the Behemoth demonstrated for her. It lifted it's large club like arms and unleashed a roar before slamming them down on the ground before it. “That's why,” she flinched as small slivers or Red Lyrium showered down around them, shattering from the behemoth with the force of it's slam. “Cole. Get up underneath it and keep it distracted, but be careful.”

“I'm faster than she is,” he said softly to reassure Evelyn before flitting away.

“Dorian, you and I can whittle it down,” she turned her head toward Cullen and Bull. “You two _stay back_ ,” she emphasized. “I don't wish to scrape either of you off the stone before we leave here.”

Cullen gritted his teeth, but he nodded. Bull huffed and glanced at Dorian. “Be careful, Kadan.”

Dorian grinned so briefly before scowling that she might have missed it if she didn't know him so well. “Vishante Kaffas,” he swore lightly, making Evelyn wonder exactly why Bull had a pet name for Dorian, and why her friend was suddenly blushing. She shook off the suspicion and set to work on the Behemoth. She and Dorian artfully combined their spells for maximum damage per hit, working side by side as only a seasoned team could. His cool necromancy huddled around her like a cherished friend. It was strange how welcoming his power felt in spite of the intention behind it. She grinned over at him and he returned the smile with devilish confidence. Then he laughed and shouted something in Tevene that she didn't understand. His staff whirled around and then he slammed it into the ground. A tall blast of purple energy licked up and around the behemoth. It roared and Cole glanced up at it before flickering out of range. Dorian's spell ripped the behemoth apart from the inside, whatever was left of it's blood boiling. She felt the barrier around her shimmer and renew itself as he braced for the explosion. He did not use his walking bomb spell often, but it was always messy. She took a few steps back and shouted a warning.

Cullen was at her side in seconds, not fully trusting the barrier. It was in his templar training. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her down to duck beneath his shield with him as the Behemoth detonated. Pieces of the beast smacked into the shield, making loud pinging sounds as the crystal shards hit the metal. “Well, that takes care of that,” she said with a chuckle. Cullen allowed her to stand and she surveyed the stone that was sprayed with bits of Lyrium and sticky red blood. “Ew,” she grunted, stepping away from a pile of ichor. “You couldn't just use a concentrated detonation,” she complained.

“Why waste the mana?” he asked with a shrug, lowering his barrier and glancing over himself to be certain he didn't have any bits of behemoth stuck to any of his clothes.

“Because this way is gross,” she complained.

He flapped his hand dismissively. “Like you haven't been wading through worse in the bogs.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That's probably true. Thanks for the reminder.”

“Any time, sweetheart. Now, shall we head inside and see what our dear templar Commander is up to, hmm?” Dorian asked.

She smiled and patted Cullen's chest as a thank you for the cover before starting to pick her way through the mess on the ground around them. They met more templar resistance inside, but it was not much. The entire building had been lit on fire. The enemies they met were simply a distraction to allow the fires to ravage the 'temple' and destroy any evidence or clues as to what Corypheus was up to. “This place is already half destroyed,” she pointed out, reaching for her mana to release a cooling storm and to stifle the fires so the smoke could vent.

“Samson must have ordered his templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn't,” Cullen agreed, his hard gaze falling over the scene.

“Looks like he cut his losses and ran,” Bull said with a cough.

“I think you're right. Still, we've dealt Samson a blow,” Cullen said, a lighter tone reaching his voice.

“Let's go further in and see if we can salvage anything,” she suggested, wishing she could do something about the giant blaze burning on the lower level below the atrium where they stood. Her magic only went so far. They moved through the entryway and toward the mezzanine. Through the main doors, the entire Mezzanine was lined with Red Lyrium spikes, jutting from the floor and walls. Samson's personal stash, no doubt. Cullen automatically reached out and pulled her closer to him and away from the walls. They continued forward to see what lie beyond.

The doorway led to a large open apartment. All around, things burned and Evelyn extinguished the flames. In the middle of the room, sitting and leaning against an overturned table was a man. He was sweating and his breathing was labored. On his forehead, he bore the brand of a Tranquil. “Hello, Inquisitor,” the man said dully as Cullen knelt on one knee beside him.

“You know me?” she asked gently, recognizing some of the symptoms of poison.

“It's Maddox. Samson's Tranquil,” Cullen identified the man. “Something's wrong... We'll need healers...”

Maddox glanced at Cullen, his eyes empty. “That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen. I drank my entire supply of Blightcap essence. It won't be long now.”

Evelyn cringed. “Are you in pain?” she sighed, realizing that he had poisoned himself in Samson's name. Even a man who had no ability to feel emotion was so dedicated to Samson that he would take his own life.

“I was, at first. Not anymore,” Maddox assured her in the same dreadful monotone that always set her on edge whenever she spoke with a tranquil. “I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

“You threw your lives away? For _Samson_? Why?” Cullen gasped, his anger burning hotter than the fires outside the door.

“Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again,” Maddox said, his empty gaze returning to Cullen. “I... wanted to help...” Maddox cringed and the veins in his throat popped out as he suffocated under the poison. Then his head fell limp, his chin to his chest.

Evelyn's hand fell to Cullen's shoulder as his own head dropped, his eyes closed and he shook his head. He stood, not rejecting her comfort as her hand slid gently down his arm. “We should... check the camp. Maddox may have missed something,” he said with a sigh. They spread out to search and Evelyn immediately went to a small wooden table that was covered in papers. One stood out starkly from the rest. She pulled it from beneath and saw Cullen's name on it. She held it out to him and he took it gently from her hands. “Samson left a message. For me.” His hands trembled slightly as he broke the seal to unfold the paper.

“What does it say?” she asked, moving to read over his shoulder.

He sighed and cringed as he read over the words. “Drink enough Lyrium, and its song reveals the truth. The Chantry used us. You're fighting the wrong battle. Corypheus chose me as his general, and his vessel of power.” Cullen growled and balled up the paper to toss to the ground. “And other such nonsense. Does he think I'll understand? What does he know?” Before she could offer comfort again. Dorian approached her with empty bottles in his hands. Cullen gasped and sneered. “Lyrium bottles. Licked clean.”

Bull grunted. “Licking the bottle's when some people stop and take a hard look at their life choices.”

“How much Lyrium is Samson taking?” Cullen asked, appalled. “His resistance must be extraordinary.” The others spread out again to keep looking for some sort of clues and Cullen's gaze returned to Maddox. “A dismal place to die,” he sighed when she stepped up beside him. “It can't have been much of a place to live, either, under Samson's command.”

Everything about this mission was getting under Cullen's skin. “What else do you remember about Samson?” she asked softly, wondering whether it was just the fear that he could end up just like the man. “The man he used to be?”

“Does it matter?” Cullen asked, forcing a small smile to his face. “ 'He used to be kind', only carries so far. Yet Maddox died to help him escape. Samson _does_ command loyalty...”

“We can't leave Maddox here,” she suggested. “He should be properly laid to rest.”

Cullen nodded his agreement. “I'll have someone take care of it. If even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less.”

She glanced around behind her. “Do _you_ see anything in the camp that could help? Or point us to Samson?” she asked.

He sighed. “It's hard to tell. All I see is smoke and ash. If this is Samson's idea of remaking the world, I prefer yours.”

She gripped his arm and squeezed before moving off to resume her own search. They didn't find anything more in Samson's space, but out in the mezzanine they came across what looked to be a small work area. “This must have been Maddox's room,” she said, picking up a few tools that she had no idea what they were meant for.

“The fire couldn't destroy these entirely. Whatever they are,” Cullen agreed, avoiding touching anything as she had.

“Those are Lyrium-forging implements. Of _remarkable_ design,” Dorian said in awe. “Intact, they'd be worth a fortune.”

“Tranquil often design their own tools,” Cullen pointed out. “Dagna should be able to make sense of them. If Maddox used these to make Samson's armor, she could use them to unmake it! We have him!”

 

They left the shrine with Maddox's tools secured in Evelyn's pack. That evening, she found herself drawn to the edge of camp where Dorian was sitting, reading a book that he had brought with him. She sat herself down beside him and took the book from his hands. When he scowled at her before allowing her to set the book aside, she nudged him with a grin. Her voice low, she asked. “What's going on between you and Iron Bull, exactly?”

Dorian sighed and glanced at the Qunari in question who was sitting with Cullen and discussing strategy of some sort. “If only there were a single discreet bone in that lummox... Do you truly want to know? Is this an official concern, or...”

“I'm asking as your friend,” she said, scooting closer to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. “How did I not know about this?”

“I wouldn't want anyone to know about this,” he chuckled, his hand finding her knee. “Just like I wouldn't want anyone to know I fancied Ferelden beer...”

“Oh, the shame, Dorian,” she mocked with a grin.

“Well, it's something... A whole lot of something... At first, it was an ill considered night after drinking... Then there was a second time... And then... I don't know what's 'going on' to be honest. I suspect, neither does the Bull.” Dorian chuckled in spite of himself. “Now that I've said it out loud, my ancestors are officially turning over in their graves... oh well.”

She hugged his arm and smiled. “Well whenever you figure it out, I'm still happy for you.”

He rested his own head on top of hers. “Yes, yes... It's ever so pleasing for everyone. Now go and rescue your man from mine. The Commander looks a bit overwhelmed.”

Evelyn took Dorian's advice and stood to go across camp and politely ask Bull to borrow Cullen. She took Cullen's hand and pulled him with her away from the camp and a short distance into the woods. “Are you all right after today?” she asked, stopping to lean her back against a tree and gaze up at him.

He shuffled his feet and his hand found the back of his neck. “Well, we all made it out alive, except for poor Maddox. I'd call it a win,” he smirked, dropping his hand back down to his side.

She reached out and took the hand in hers. “It really bothers you, doesn't it?”

“I don't know what you...” he began and she shook her head, bringing her other hand up to caress his cheek.

“You could _never_ become Samson,” she said with confidence.

He sighed. “It's just so hard, sometimes. There are some days when I... but knowing you are there with me, supporting me... It makes this all worth something,” he mirrored her hand with his own, her cheek cupped in his palm. “ _You_ make it worth something.” he pulled her away from the tree and into his arms. He brushed her lips with his, teasing before fully pressing himself against her.

 


	14. Vir'Abelasan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corypheus' plans are revealed by Morrigan and Evelyn follows her advice to some elven ruins.

After Bull read over his reports from the time they were away, he came to her immediately with an offer from the Ben Hassrath. The Qunari wanted an alliance with the Inquisition. For the Qunari to reach out to any other race other than their own was something that had never happened before. She was honored. The meeting and the mission did not go as planned however. The trial was for her and Bull and her team to work with the Ben Hassrath representative to clear a section of the storm coast while Bull sent the Chargers to secure the second area, allowing the Qunari dreadnought to sail into the area and sink the Tevinter ships threatening the coast. Evelyn refused to allow the Chargers to be killed as a second wave to Tevinter mages were able to get onto the shore after the dreadnought destroyed their vessel. She had Bull call off the Chargers and the mages blew up the Dreadnought. No alliance was worth the lives of Bull's men. She had bonded with them, drank with them, made friends with them. The Ben Hassrath representative angrily declared Bull a 'Tal-Vashoth', which in Qunlat meant he was a traitor and no longer welcome under the Qun, before storming off.

When they returned to Skyhold, Bull called her to a meeting on the battlements. He approached her quietly, his shoulders slumped. “You wanted to see me?” she asked softly, her eyes catching movement behind him. He spun quickly, grabbing hold of a man dressed in Inquisition Scout armor. He punched the man, knocking him down. Another Scout threw a knife, end over end that embedded itself in Bull's shoulder, making him grunt and step back with a spray of blood. He pulled a small axe from his belt and slung it into the man's chest as the first attacker got back to his feet. “Bull!” she shouted, moving to help.

He held up an arm, grunting. “I got it!”

The stumbling man held his bloody nose and shouted. “Ebost Issala, Tal-Vashoth!”

Bull grabbed the man and tossed him over the battlements into the snow hundreds of feet below. “Yeah, yeah. My soul's dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground though, so...” He gripped his injured shoulder, pulling the knife free and pocketing it. With a grunt he said, “Sorry, boss. I thought I might need backup.” He shrugged and grinned bitterly. “I guess I'm not even worth sending professionals for.”

“Are you alright?” she asked stepping toward him to reach for the wound.

He waved her off. “Fine. Hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed.” Evelyn thought about Dorian and grinned.

“What if they used poison?”she asked, crossing her arms.

“Oh, they _definitely_ used poison. Saar-Qamek. Liquid form. If I hadn't been dosing myself with the antidote, I'd be going crazy and puking my guts up right now. As it is, it stings like shit, but that's about it,” he assured her.

“I hoped the Ben Haassrath would let you go,” she sighed, knowing this was all her fault.

He chuckled, looking at her with a thankful grin. “They did. Sending two guys with blades against me? That's not a hit, that's a formality. Just making it clear that I'm Tal-Vashoth.” he shrugged and then hung his head. “Tal-Va-fucking-shoth...”

She patted his arm with a reassuring grin. “Tell Cullen and Leliana what happened. We'll tighten security.”

“Will do, boss...” When she turned to leave, he called her back. “Boss? Whatever I miss, whatever I regret... This is where I want to be.” He grinned widely. “Whenever you need an ass kicked, The Iron Bull is with you.”

She returned the grin and then he turned from her, likely to head for the tavern for a drink.

 

After Varric led them to a leak that allowed them to shut down another Red Lyrium source for the Red Templars, Evelyn began to feel like she was sitting on her hands waiting for Corypheus to find another way into the Fade. Leliana had spotty reports that he and the Red Templars had been seen in the Arbor Wilds, but no one knew why. One morning as they were pouring over the War Table, Evelyn sighed in frustration. “It's time to plan our next attack... What's the state of the Inquisition?” She was tired of waiting. Something had to be done.

“Our alliance with Orlais holds. For the present,” Josie said with confidence. “They will send aid on request.”

“And your actions at Adamant denied Corypheus his army of pet demons,” Cullen pointed out with a reverent smirk. “With Orlais' support, our numbers match his. “Corypheus' followers must be panicking.”

“My agents agree,” Leliana said with a grin of her own. “Our victories have shaken his disciples.”

Evelyn couldn't hep but share in the pride. “We've beaten their 'god' twice over. Corypheus must be livid. Where is he now?”

Cullen spoke up, pointing out the Arbor Wilds. “After Adamant, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds and sent them marching south to the Arbor Wilds. His army clearly wasn't prepared to flee. Our victories have them on the defensive.”

“Good of Corypheus to make it easy to find him,” she snorted. “If he's hiding in the Arbor Wilds, that's where we finish him.”

“But what _is_ Corypheus doing in such a remote area?” Josie worried.

“His people have been ransacking elven ruins since Haven. We believe he seeks more,” Leliana said ominously. “What he hopes to find, however... continues to elude us.”

The door to the War Room swung open, her timing impeccable. “Which should surprise no one.”

Evelyn did not even have to glance back to see who had entered. She had shared enough conversations with Morrigan to recognize her sultry voice. “Fortunately, I can assist.”

“I'll ignore that you wandered in without knocking,” Evelyn said, crossing her arms and smirking. “You have my attention.”

“What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten woods is as ancient as it is dangerous,” Morrigan purred.

“Which is?” Evelyn asked with a shrug.

“ 'Tis best... if I show you,” she said cryptically before walking back the way she had come. Evelyn exchanged a glance with her advisers before rolling her eyes and following after the Witch. She followed her out through Josie's office, the main hall, and the gardens into a small storage room near the shrine to Andraste. Morrigan stopped her at the back of the room in front of an extremely tall item that was covered in a cloth. Morrigan pulled the cloth off, revealing a huge mirror, squared at the bottom and arched at the top. There was nothing really remarkable about the thing, save for its sheer size. “This is an Eluvian,” Morrigan said, touching fingertips to the glass. Evelyn could feel a slight hum of magic coming from the mirror at Morrigan's touch. “An elven artifact, from a time long before their empire was lost to human greed. I restored this one at great cost, but another lies within the Arbor Wilds. _That_ is what Corypheus seeks.”

“It's... beautiful... in it's way,” Evelyn said, feeling drawn to the mirror.

“I found legends of an elven temple within the Arbor Wilds. Untouched.” Morrigan explained. “It proved too dangerous to approach, and thus I turned elsewhere to find my prize. If Corypheus has turned southward, he could succeed where I failed. The Eluvian would be his.”

“What does it do?” Evelyn asked, enjoying the hum of magic pouring from the mirror.

Morrigan smirked. “The more appropriate question would be, 'Where does it lead'?” She lifted her hands and touched it with mana. The mirror ignited with a bright blue glow, setting strange shadows all around them. Morrigan stepped through the 'glass' and beckoned Evelyn to follow.

Evelyn gasped and cautiously stepped through the mirror. In seconds, they were transported to a hazy, fog riddled land, steeped in elven magic. She could feel it against her skin. More of the mirrors stood all around at the ends of winding paths that all converged somewhere or another. There were benches and odd 'trees' that stood looking like perfectly rounded metal sentinels guarding short towers that reminded her of mausoleums. Everything had an ethereal muffle to it, even Morrigan's voice as she spoke, echoed off of the nothingness that surrounded them.

“If this place once had a name, it has long been lost,” she said gently. Evelyn stepped ahead of her to get a better look around, but the fog was thick and she could not see very far in any direction. “I call it the Crossroads, a place where all Eluvian's join... Wherever they might be.”

“This place is extraordinary!” Evelyn sighed, lifting her face to the sky and holding out her arms as one might do in a rain storm to allow the drops to hit your face. Her eyes closed and the environment caressed over her cheeks with a light breeze. “How could this even exist?”

“Who can say? Formed from the fabric of time and space, perhaps,” Morrigan shrugged as Evelyn returned her attention to the woman. “The ancient elves left no roads, only ruins in far flung corners. This is how they traveled between them. As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark. Broken, corrupted or unusable. As for the rest, a few can be opened from this side... But only a few.”

“What do you mean, 'a few can be opened from this side'?” Evelyn asked curiously, still marveling at the very existence of the place.

“Some of the Eluvian's have been left unlocked, like doors accidentally left ajar,” Morrigan explained. “All others are closed... They can be opened, only from beyond.”

“Opened how?”

Morrigan smiled at Evelyn's curiosity. “With a key.”

“I suppose you have such a key,” Evelyn guessed, since Morrigan had activated her mirror back in Skyhold.

“The key can be many things. Each Eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Often, that is enough.”

“Corypheus wants to come... here?” Evelyn asked in wonder, not certain why he might want such a thing.

“This... is not the Fade, but it is very close. Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers....”

“And enter the Fade in the flesh,” Evelyn finished. “Like Corypheus wanted to do with the anchor.”

Morrigan nodded. “He learned of the Eluvian in the Arbor Wilds, as I did. He marshals the last of his forces to reach it.” She moved back to her open Eluvian, Evelyn following close behind. “You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him. And soon.”

They passed back through the mirror and into Skyhold. Evelyn needed to get this information back to the War Room. Having seen the Crossroads and felt it's magic on her skin she felt their cause ever more urgent than before. Morrigan joined her and together, they explained to the others. “With an Eluvian, Corypheus could cross into the Fade in the flesh?” Leliana gasped.

“Indeed. The Inquisitor can attest that these artifacts still work if one knows how to use them,” Morrigan agreed with a curt nod.

“What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?” Cullen asked softly, his gaze fixed on Evelyn.

“Why, he will gain his heart's desire, and take the power of a God,” Morrigan said slyly. “Or... and this is more likely... the lunatic will unleash forces that tear the world apart.”

Evelyn hugged herself. “In Redcliffe, I saw the future Corypheus built. We can't let that happen.”

“ 'Twas always so, was it not?” Morrigan asked with a shrug. “The madman would bury us all.”

“Pardon me, but... does this mean everything's lost unless we get to the Eluvian before him?” Josie asked, her question briefly silencing the room.

Cullen's fists tightened around his sword hilt. “Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our army moves.”

“We should gather our allies before we march,” Josie said with a sigh.

“Can we wait for them?” Leliana asked desperately. “We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds.”

“Without support from the soldiers? You'd lose half of them!” Cullen pointed out.

“Then what _should_ we do?” Josie asked shortly.

Evelyn watched her advisers slipping into their old bickering routine and she stepped forward, carefully placing her palms on the War Table. “For starters, we don't let Corypheus worry us to death. Imagine how embarrassing that would be... Josephine, have our allies send scouts to meet us in the wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them. Together, we'll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus' army until Cullen's soldiers arrive.”

Morrigan allowed herself a short chuckle before clearing her throat. “Such confidence, but the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods.”

“We'd be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise,” Josie said with a diplomatic smile.

“ 'Tis why I came here, although it is good to see it's value recognized,” Morrigan said, her head tipping forward as a smile lit her golden eyes.

“Any further instructions, Inquisitor?” Cullen asked formally. He was clearly ready to start getting his troops prepared to march.

Evelyn squared her shoulders and glanced around at her advisers. “We've embarked on a quest that ends in facing the most powerful monster in all Thedas...” she smirked. “Do get a good night's sleep.”

Cullen snorted. “As you wish.”

Leliana's amused smile remained as she said, “We'll hound Corypheus in the Wilds before he can find the temple or this 'Eluvian'.”

 

Everything came together smoothly as Morrigan lent her aid, as promised. Before nightfall that same evening, the plans were in motion. Josie was tirelessly writing to their allies and Leliana had already sent her agents their orders on Ravens. Cullen's army was preparing to march in two days. The hustle and bustle left Evelyn with little to do. She sat in front of the fire in her room, finally reading a book and trying to stay out from under foot. She could tell it was getting late as the sun dipped down and she had to cast a small mage light so she wasn't reading in the dark. She was so caught up in the book that she did not hear Cullen approach from the stairs. “I am exhausted,” he sighed, startling her as he sat down in the opposite end of the couch, scooting her feet out of the way.

She yelped, her mage light flickering out as she lost her concentration and dropped her book. “Maker, don't sneak up on me like that!” She playfully kicked at him with her foot.

He chuckled softly, catching her foot and his fingers blessedly ungloved, tickled over her arches. “I didn't 'sneak',” he insisted. “I'm certain I even slammed the door at the bottom of the stairs.”

She squinted at him in the darkness of the room, the fireplace the only light left. The dark rings under his eyes that indicated a long day of withdrawal present on his face. She huffed and pulled her foot away from him.”It just sounded that way because you have a headache. Come here.” She held out her arms, tucking one foot under the opposite thigh and making him a nest in her lap.

He gratefully closed his eyes and rested his head in her lap, shifting to lie on his back, his legs draped over the arm of the couch. She started by massaging his shoulders and worked her way to his neck and then gently called a light amount of mana to calm his headache. The pinch of his brow softened a bit and he sighed. “You are too good to me.”

“I'm just glad I can ease the pain. Even if it's a little,” she said, caressing her fingers through his thick hair.

He reached down and picked up the book she had dropped. “What were you so enthralled with?”

She gasped and reached to grab the book from him, a flush of embarrassment burning her cheeks. “Nothing important. Cassandra lent it to me.”

He held the book from her reach as he chuckled, reading the cover. “Swords and Shields... isn't this one of Varric's books?”

She buried her face in her palms. “Yes. It's terrible, but I can't seem to put it down. Now I know why Cass was so embarrassed when I caught her reading it a few months ago. Her exact words were, 'pretend you don't know this about me'.”

“What's it about? I don't follow Varric's tales,” he said, flipping through the pages. He landed on one in particular with a fairly graphic image incorporated among the story. “Oh... I see,” he grinned deviously, his cheeks reddening slightly as hers still were. He tipped the book to get a better angle on the image and snickered.

She snatched the book from him and tossed it towards her desk. It landed with a loud thwack on the floor and slid beneath her sitting chair. “We don't need to worry what it's about...”

“You said Cassandra reads Varric's books?” he asked.

“Oh, Varric was just as pleased as I was when I told him. He even started to finish the series because he wanted to torment her with the fact that he knew her dirty little secret. I was there when he gave it to her,” Evelyn sighed contentedly, remembering the hateful scowl followed by the grateful smile that she had suffered from the Seeker. “Totally worth it.”

“You're terrible,” he scolded halfheartedly.

“I thought that was why you loved me,” she grinned, leaning over him so her hair cascaded around her face and tickled over his nose.

“Among other reasons,” he smiled, lifting up slightly to draw her lips down to his.

“Is your head feeling better?” she asked suggestively, shamelessly leaning far enough to crown his head with her breasts.

He chuckled, using that deep, humming tone he used only for her as she traced her fingers down over his tunic, plucking at the fabric lightly. “Much...” He took her hands in his and moved them so he could sit up and face her.

She wasted no time in shifting her own seating arrangements to straddle his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Did you lock the door when you 'slammed' it,” she asked, leaning in and worrying at his earlobe with her teeth.

“You have such little faith, Ev,” he teased back, his hands slipping up her back under her shirt. Then his own lips found her neck.

She moaned under his attention. “Maker, I don't even care...”

 

Blackwall was missing. She had searched everywhere for the quiet, stoic warrior and discovered he was nowhere to be found. There was a note tacked to the rocking horse griffon he had been whittling since they'd arrived at Skyhold. Her stomach clenched as she read over the scribbled text.

_Inquisitor,_

_You've been a friend and an inspiration. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former._

_It's been my honor to serve you._

Why had he left? They had just been chatting amicably a few nights before in the tavern. They hadn't been the closest of friends, but she respected him and she knew he respected her as well. As she read over the note again, one of Leliana's men came in to the barn with a crumpled up ball of parchment. “The spymaster has confirmed it. Blackwall is gone.”

“Go on... Leliana knows where he is, doesn't she? She knows everything,” Evelyn said as the man handed her the parchment.

“She doesn't know 'everything'. Yet,” the scout said. “Sister Leliana had us search the Warden's quarters. Not much to find, except this. It was missing from last week's reports. I don't know what Blackwall's interest in this particular matter is, but it could be a good place to start.”

The scout left her to read. It was an announcement of an execution taking place in Val Royeaux. Evelyn had no idea who the man was or why Blackwall would have taken the report. They were supposed to leave for the Arbor Wilds tomorrow. His timing was impeccable. He must have planned this. Evelyn sighed. She didn't want to lose Blackwall. He had been tremendously helpful the few times she had taken him with her. They were friends. She wanted to help however she could. She took the note to Cullen. “Have you heard?” she asked softly.

“About Blackwall? Yes,” he said, studying her face. “You want to do something, don't you?”

She sighed. “I just want to understand why he would just leave.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Take your party to Val Royeaux. I will send Rylen and the men along with Leliana as scheduled and try to dig up something on Blackwall. I'll meet you in Val Royeaux and we can head to the Arbor Wilds from there.”

She rounded his desk to give him a short kiss. “Thank you. I think we can make it in time for this execution. Attending it will likely help us find him.”

 

Evelyn stood at the back of the crowd in the middle of Val Royeaux, watching as the accused was placed in a noose and his crimes announced by a chevalier. Just as the hangman was about to pull the lever, Blackwall's voice rang over the cheering and jeering of the assembled crowd. “Stop!”

A collective gasp rang through the masses as Blackwall walked proudly up onto the gallows. Evelyn pushed her way closer to the front of the crowd. “A Grey Warden,” the chevalier announced, as if no one there could distinguish the armor.

Blackwall paused before the kneeling man. “This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him. Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake.”

The man looked at Blackwall as if he were a ghost. “Then find me the man who gave the order,” the same chevalier demanded.

Blackwall hung his head and Evelyn realized what he was doing. “Blackwall!” she shouted, her high voice echoing around the crowded marketplace.

His eyes fell on her and he visibly crumpled. “No. I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am.”

“You!” the prisoner gasped. “After all this time!”

“It's over,” Blackwall agreed, turning to the man. “I'm done hiding.” He returned his attention to the crowd. “I gave the order. The crime is mine! I am Thom Rainier.”

The crowd erupted in shocked conversation as Evelyn gaped at Blackwall. She needed to know more. He was arrested and went calmly to the Val Royeaux prison. Evelyn pulled rank and asked the others to wait outside. Blackwall sat in a cell all of the way at the rear of the row of cells. She quietly approached, studying the broken man. He looked nothing like the usually calm and honorable man that she had grown to admire. His eyes were sunken and he was huddled around himself as he wallowed in his own lies.

She stared at him for a very long time, waiting for an explanation. Finally without expression or warning, he spoke. “I didn't take Blackwall's life. I traded his death... he wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man... But a good man, the man _he_ was, wouldn't have let another die in his place...”

He refused to look at her, and she allowed herself to approach his cell, trying to see through the shadows that obscured his face. “Was the bailiff telling the truth?” she asked softly. “Did you really do those things?”

“Yes, I did,” he said, finally gazing up at her with hardened eyes. “It's all true. It's time we all took a good look at who I really am.” he stood and began pacing in agitation. “Don't you understand?! I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing.” He stepped up the bars of his cell and slammed his hands in front of her. Then shook the iron bars, startling her. “When it came to light, I ran! Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man!” he spat and she backed away from his rage. “ _This_ is what I am! A murderer, a traitor... a monster.” He sank down to his knees, his breath slipping out in a sob.

She steeled herself and moved forward again. “Would a monster have given himself up?” she asked, a single tear slipping from her eye as she knelt before him. It hurt to see him so defeated. “Somewhere along the line, you stopped pretending.”

He wouldn't talk after that. His regret was palpable. He truly believed that he deserved to be there. She disagreed. She had to do something. She got up, rushing to return to Dorian, Bull and Cole so they could figure out a way to get him out of the Orlesian's hands. She was so determined that she didn't notice passing Cullen. His voice drew her attention behind her at the cell bock's entrance. They were alone, the Orlesian guards dismissed. “I have Leliana's report on Thom Rainier.” he told her, stopping her in her tracks. Of course Leliana had figured out who he was and sent Cullen to her with the information. She took the reports he offered her and began looking over the papers.

“Give me the overview,” she asked, a bit distracted by her own thoughts.

“Looks like our friend was once a respected Captain in the Imperial Orlesian Army. Before the civil war, he was turned, persuaded to assassinate one of Celene's biggest supporters. He led a group of fiercely loyal men on this mission, and told them nothing of it. His men took the fall for him. A few lucky ones, like Mornay, managed to escape.” He said bitterly.

Evelyn noted the dates in the papers she held and sighed. “Let me guess. Our spymaster had these reports just lying around somewhere, didn't she?” It would explain how Cullen had arrived so closely behind her.

“It would have been difficult for anyone to connect Blackwall to Rainier. Even Leliana has something of a blind spot when it comes to Wardens...” he sighed. “What do we do now? Blackw... Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don't have to. We have resources. If he's released to us, you may pass judgment on him yourself.”

“If it were up to you, what would happen?” she asked, having noted the tone of his voice as he had described Blackwall's crimes.

He sneered, the soldier in him shining through. “What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours... I despise him for it...” his expression and his tone softened. “And yet, he fought as a Warden, joined the Inquisition, gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it... why?”

She smiled sweetly. “Some part of you is impressed by what he did, isn't it?”

Cullen returned her smile, but only half way. “Saving Mornay the way he did took courage, I'll give him that.” He shrugged. “But I can't tell you what to do.”

She bit her lip, glancing back down at the reports. A heavy sigh slipped from her lungs. She couldn't deal with this now. They had other pressing issues. “Have Rainier released to us. I'll think about what to do while we deal with Corypheus. Even if I have him executed, at least it comes from us and not the Orlesians.”

Cullen tucked her hair behind her ear for her and then pulled her into a soft hug. “As you wish.” He kissed the top of her head and released her to go about her orders.

 

The Arbor Wilds would have been a beautiful place if half of the Inquisition along with Corypheus' army hadn't been setting things on fire and detonating bombs to route each other. Cullen rode off about an hour before they arrived leaving her with a chaste kiss and a pit in her stomach. Now she knew how he felt whenever she rode off from Skyhold. She dismounted and met with a Captain to get a reign on the situation. “How goes the battle, Captain?”

“The Red Templars fall beneath our blades, Your Worship. Commander Cullen says they're nearly finished,” the woman reported. “Our scouts saw Corypheus traveling toward an elven ruin to the North. We can clear you a path through his armies.”

“Do only what you must,” Evelyn warned with a smile. “We need enough people for a celebration when we return to Skyhold.”

“We will not fail you, my lady. No matter what comes,” the Captain saluted. “Andraste guide you, Inquisitor.”

Morrigan slunk up beside Evelyn, a smirk across her lips. “I wonder... Is it Andraste your soldiers invoke during battle, or does a more immediate name come to their lips?”

Evelyn sighed. “Another way to let people down if I falter. Thanks you for the reminder.”

Morrigan chuckled. “ 'Twas not I who raised an army of faithful to storm this land, Inquisitor. But I digress.... If your scouts report accurately, I believe these ruins to be the Temple of Mythal.”

“Which is?” Evelyn asked with curiosity.

“A place of worship out of elven legend. If Corypheus seeks it, then the Eluvian he covets lies within.” A slew of explosions in the woods drew her attention briefly from Morrigan. “Let us hope we reach this temple _before_ the entire forest is reduced to ash.”

Evelyn and her small party started through the camp to the North. “Let's hope you're right about this temple, Morrigan. I could use a building or two,” Dorian said with a shudder as they passed under a natural tunnel, lush vegetation surrounding them on all sides.

“Do the woods discomfort you, Pavus?” Morrigan purred, her tone taunting. She had grown up in a place like this. She was likely right at home.

“Actually, it's the people trying to cut our heads off that manage that,” he snipped back.

They followed a wide game trail that was mostly deserted, save for some colorful birds that watched them carefully before flying off when they passed too close. Adan would have loved to see all of the herbs growing wild that she spotted in the brush. She wished she had time to stop and pluck a few. Along the path, they ran into more than a few skirmishes between the Inquisition, their allies, and the Red Templars. It was a long winded battle through the woods, the terrain blocking them more times than the fighting. She ran into Leliana who pointed her in the right direction after she helped the spymaster take care of some of the Red Templars. Just past where Leliana was, they found a camp that was teeming with Red Templars, but the Inquisition had not apparently come across them yet. They took down the archers on the adjacent wall as quickly as they could before engaging the larger threats of the gigantic and the misshapen warriors. In and out of her sights as she fought, Evelyn became aware of another threat flitting almost so quickly that she didn't see them. If she hadn't been used to Cole and his quickness, she would have been dead from a dagger to the back. She spun and blocked the blow, getting a brief look at her attacker before he disappeared again. “We have another threat!” she warned. It took everything she had to pin down and stop the three assailants before they decided a fight wasn't worth it, the Red Templars long dead. She panted, leaning on her staff. “Were we just attacked by elves?”

“They didn't look like any elves I've ever seen,” Dorian remarked, rubbing his hand over a few cuts on his arms and then moving to tend to her as well. She waved him off, and he pursed his lips, but moved off to heal Bull instead. The elves had been particularly rough on him as he tried to swing his giant hammer around to hit them. They were simply too fast.

Morrigan was remarkably unscathed, having stayed to the rear and cast from afar. “Perhaps these creatures are the reason few return from the Arbor Wilds,” she mused.

Evelyn sighed. “Let's go, we need to get to the temple. Keep your eyes sharp.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when they came up on the next battle. She caught sight of Cullen's familiar glimmering armor as he and a group of soldiers fought some Red Templars. The temple stood before her, tall and overgrown, but she wanted to make certain he was safe first. She lashed out, Dorian's barrier falling around their allies as she sent a chain lightning through the water of the river beneath their feet. Cullen's eyes shot up when he noticed magic on the field and she waved her fingers at him with a grin. He grunted, but not without a small approving smile. “Don't worry about me. The temple is right there. Get going.” he urged.

She and her party rushed through the battle, helping with a slash, smash or spell if a Red Templar got too close. With one final glance toward Cullen, she scurried up the stairs to a wide open courtyard that led to a dark tunnel. “I hear fighting up ahead,” Morrigan warned as they neared the end of the tunnel. Evelyn crouched to get a good look without revealing their presence.

There were Templar bodies strewn around along with some of the golden armor clad elves like they had seen in the woods. The elven bodies were thin and their faces marked with a vallaslin that she did not recognize, although it resembled some of the ones she'd seen that honored Mythal. Were they a Dalish clan? She began to wish she had brought Solas with her. She glanced over the rail that thoroughly blocked her from sight because it was overgrown by vines and leaves. The temple itself stood tall across a long bridge, guarded by more of the elven sentries. It's grandeur was obscured by large thick trees whose branches seemed to reach out on purpose to guard the temple.

The elves stood boldly at the nearest end of the bridge below her, facing down Samson and Corypheus himself who was flanked by a number of templars and a few Wardens she'd not been able to save from Adamant. Evelyn ducked back down as the closest elf spoke, brandishing his staff, a scowl on the part of his face not obscured by the hood over his head. “Na melana sur, banallen!”

“They still think to fight us, Master,” Samson said in a deep throaty voice as Corypheus picked up one of the elves not in the bridge by the face and crushed him, tossing him toward his people. Then the monster followed, bearing down on the one still brandishing his staff.

“These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows,” Corypheus said.

Evelyn shot a curious glance at Morrigan as he mentioned the Well of Sorrows. He was supposed to be looking for an Eluvian, not a Well. Morrigan shrugged and Evelyn glanced back at the enemy. As Corypheus drew closer, the two statues to the elf's sides that defined the border of the bridge began to glow. The elf backed up as Corypheus looked defiantly from one statue to the other. His twisted face drew back in a sneer and he continued forward. “Be honored! Witness death at the hands of a new God!” When he stepped past the statues, an electrical energy field sprung to life, enveloping his body. Corypheus fought for every step as he tested the spell. The elf's eyes widened in fear as Corypheus became close enough to reach down and pick him up by the face as he had the other elf. He held him aloft and the two of them began to melt, skin and muscle sloughing from bone. Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. Had Corypheus just made a mistake and killed himself? It couldn't be that easy. Hawke and Varric had thought him dead before. She felt herself pulling up in the rail to get a better look as the statues exploded in a cloud of dust a debris. The elves on the bridge were swept up in the blast, all of them dying instantly. Evelyn felt Dorian pulling her back as the smoke cleared. Samson and his templars still stood, but Corypheus was a stain on the ground. Evelyn's heart was racing. Samson seemed unphased by the death of his master as he led his templars across the now unguarded bridge with the statue wards nothing but rubble. Evelyn got up and vaulted over the rail to investigate. She needed to know the truth.

There were bodies everywhere, some of the Wardens having been caught in the blast. Evelyn stared down Samson as he crossed into the temple and he grinned back at her. She had no time to analyze what that could mean before her attention was drawn behind her. She and her companions watched as one of the Warden corpses began to convulse, lifting onto its knees and doubling over with sickeningly wet gurgling sounds. Then it threw itself backwards, it's mouth opening to the sky and spewing black ichor to rain down around him. Evelyn looked past the horror to see as the Warden's human hands grew longer and pointed, shards of Red Lyrium growing from his face. “It cannot be!” Morrigan gasped.

“Across the bridge! Now!” Evelyn ordered, panic setting in as Corypheus was slowly reborn from the puddle of black ooze. She and her people raced over the bridge as the deafening roar of Corypheus' dragon swooped in over the temple from the direction they had come. Morrigan was the last inside and they worked in tandem to push the heavy doors closed behind them. The dragon's lightning breath slammed into the door just as it closed, sealing them inside with a shimmering barrier. The magics of the old temple were still active it seemed. The force of the dragon knocked her and Cole off their feet. Morrigan gave her a hand up while Bull brushed off Cole. Dorian leaning heavily on his knees to catch his breath around the shock he was likely feeling to match hers.

Morrigan sighed. “At last, Mythal's sanctum. Let us proceed before Corypheus interferes.”

Before she could walk off, Bull asked the question at the tip of Evelyn's tongue. “If he's here for a mirror, why'd Corypheus say he wants a 'Well of Sorrows'?”

Morrigan awkwardly scratched her head. “I... am uncertain of what he referred to.”

“You're not certain?” Evelyn almost shouted. “You said you knew what he was looking for!”

“I suspected, I did not _know_ ,” Morrigan corrected with a sneer. When Evelyn crossed her arms, dissatisfied with that answer, Morrigan sighed again. “Yes, I was wrong. Does that please you? Whatever the Well of Sorrows might be, Corypheus seeks it, and thus you must keep it from his grasp.”

Evelyn knew Morrigan was right, at least in this. She turned and headed inward. “Let's find this well before Corypheus' people do.” As she passed through the room they were in to another outdoor courtyard, she clenched her fists. “I want to know how Corypheus returned to life. We saw him _die_!”

“And his life force passes on to any Blighted creature, Darkspawn or Grey Warden,” Morrigan said thoughtfully.

“Then Corypheus can't really die?” Dorian asked his voice wavering.

“We'll find a way to stop him once we're done here,” Evelyn assured him, her own voice a bit shaky.

“ 'Tis strange,” Morrigan mused. “Archdemon's possess the same ability, and still the Grey Wardens are able to slay them. Yet Corypheus, they locked away. Perhaps they knew he could do this... but not how.” Evelyn shook her head and continued through the courtyard. Ahead was a slightly raised dais. Morrigan pulled ahead, rounding the dais and taking the three stairs up. As soon as her feet touched the tiles on the ground, they lit up with a glowing magic. She ignored the glow and stepped closer to the carved stone before her. “It appears the temple's magics are still strong,” she said, pointing out what Evelyn had already noticed with the door.

Evelyn approached behind her, the tile beneath winking out when she stepped upon it. “Is this elven?” she asked, unable to decipher the language on the stone. “Does it say anything about this 'Well of Sorrows'?”

“I only recognize a few phrases,” Morrigan said gently, her nose wrinkling as she translated. “Ah! 'Abelasan', meaning 'place of sorrow'. That must be the well... There is something about knowledge. Respectful or pure... Shiven, shivennen...” she shrugged. “ 'Tis all I can translate. That it mentions the well is a good omen.”

Evelyn shrugged, her elven not even as good as Morrigan's. “We're out of luck unless one of those temple elves drops a lexicon.”

“Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid obeisance here. Following their path may aid entry,” Morrigan suggested.

“You mean light up all of the tiles?” Evelyn asked.

Morrigan backed off and nodded, as her feet left the tile, it lit again. Only one person at a time it seemed. Evelyn moved to her left, the tiles wrapping around the center of the dais. Bull grumbled as she mapped the best path to light all of the tiles without repeatedly stepping on any one of them. “Not much of a lock if all you do is step on it.”

“ 'Tis a ritual,” Morrigan snapped. “Not a barred door. There is more here than earthly treasure.”

When Evelyn had lit all of the tiles she heard the door above click open. “There,” she sighed.

“Well done,” Morrigan said with a smile. “Let us see what awaits.”

In the next room, they caught up with Samson as he was blowing a hole in the ground just ahead of the door above. He jumped into the hole with an order to his mean to stop them. After a brief fight with the remaining templars, Evelyn beckoned the others. “Hurry, we might catch them!”

She ran up the stairs to where Samson had jumped in the hole. She could see a set of catacombs below and braced to jump in. Morrigan scurried in front of her. “Hold! A moment...” Evelyn stopped and Morrigan visibly relaxed. “While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination,” Morrigan pointed to the magically sealed door. “We should walk the petitioners path, as before.”

“People are dying outside while we stand here,” Cole said, clearly feeling every bit of death from outside. “If we use the tunnel, more of our soldiers can flee.”

“Just a thought,” Dorian added directly on top of Cole. “maybe rushing through this place like a mad bull isn't the best plan?”

“You see the urgency,” Morrigan said. “We _cannot_ find the Well of Sorrows unprepared.”

“We don't know what's behind those doors,” Evelyn said, biting her lip. “They might have reason for going another way.”

“Had they the option, they would have proceeded. _That_ must lead to their goal,” Morrigan insisted.

“Their goal? Or yours?” Evelyn accused with a frown.

Morrigan held out a hand for Evelyn to walk with her, away from the others. “There is... a danger to the natural order. Legends walked Thedas once, things of might and wonder. Their passing has left us all the lesser. Corypheus would squander the ancient power of the Well. I would have it restored.”

“I wasn't expecting your answer to be so... romantic,” Evelyn said, her own scholarly background making her think Morrigan was on to something.

“Trust me... Your surprise is matched only by my own.” The usually confident woman flushed a light pink as she admitted her softness. She sighed. “Mankind blunders through the world, crushing what it does not understand. Elves, dragons, magic... the list is endless. We must stem the tide or be left with nothing more than the mundane. This I know to be true.” She smiled gently and began to pluck at her sleeve. “I read more in the first chamber than I revealed. It said a great boon is given to those who use the Well of Sorrows... but at a terrible price.”

Evelyn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What sort of curse should we brace ourselves for if we use the Well?”

Morrigan chuckled softly. “ 'Twould be easier by far to advise you of a curse. This price is not so well defined. My priority is your cause, but if the opportunity arises to save this well, I am willing to pay the cost.”

“And gain what?” Evelyn asked. Morrigan had no idea what the Well was.

“That is what we must discover. The rituals may point the way,” Morrigan suggested.

Evelyn agreed and allowed Morrigan to lead her to the rituals. They were just as before, though much more complex. The patterns were difficult to discern and it took them nearly ten minutes to get through them all. Evelyn was sweating in fear, wishing she had simply dropped into the hole when a resounding click signaled the opening of the door. They rushed back up to the door and went through.

Inside was a large entry hall adorned in gold and brightly colored mosaics depicting different elven gods and goddesses. It reminded her of Solas' room back in Skyhold where he had begun to paint more about the Inquisition, like a mural of her life since the breach. An eerie feeling settled over her as they walked as a group into the empty hall. “ 'Tis not what I expected,” Morrigan's voice broke the silence, echoing gently off the tall ceilings. “What was this chamber used for?”

It did seem to have a use besides an entry hall. At the far end, a balcony stood a few stories above them, seeming to only have access from the inside of the temple. Other small doors surrounded them, leading elsewhere in the temple. “We're being watched,” Evelyn pointed out, unable to shake the feeling as they paused.

An elf appeared on the balcony, his arms crossed. Much to Evelyn's surprise, he addressed them in the King's tongue. “Venavis. You... are unlike the other invaders. You bear the mark of magic which is... familiar,” with a wave of his hand, the anchor reacted, lighting up brightly before fading again. She glared up at him. “How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?” Evelyn began to take note of more of the strange elves gathering around, their bows trained on her and her people.

“I don't understand the 'slumber' bit. Who _are_ you?” she asked.

He regarded her briefly before lowering his arms. “I am called Abelas. We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the Vir'abelasan.”

Morrigan whispered in her ear. “'The place of the way of sorrows', he speaks of the well!”

“It is not _for_ you. It is not for _any_ of you,” Abelas said sternly.

“So, you're elves from ancient times? Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?” Evelyn gasped in wonder.

Abelas shook his head. “The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan. We elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over.”

“Wait!” Dorian gasped. “That's not right! What are you saying?”

“You would not know truth,” Abelas sneered. “Shemlen history is as short as the pool of your years.”

“What did the Imperium do, then?” Dorian pleaded. “Are you saying it wasn't a war?”

“The 'war' of carrion feasting upon a corpse, yes,” Abelas agreed. “We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless. We endure. The Vir'abelasan must be preserved.”

“What is this Vir'abelasan, exactly?” Evelyn asked, her curiosity winning out over her need to reach the Well before Samson.

“It is a path. One walked only by those who toiled in Mythal's favor,” Abelas said cryptically.

“He speaks of priests, perhaps?” Morrigan wondered.

“More than that, you need not know,” Abelas said.

“If the Well of Sorrows is a source of power, now is when it's needed,” Evelyn began, trying to reason.

“It is not power,” Abelas spat. “Not such as you could use, even if I permitted it.”

“Yet Corypheus' minions are here to claim it! Unless you've defeated them already,” she reminded him.

“We have not,” he admitted. “Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them. When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart... and never return.”

“I'll admit, the idea of fighting the last of their kind... does not thrill me,” Dorian whispered.

She absolutely agreed. If they could get through this peacefully, taking the long way around had been worth it. “Consider carefully,” Morrigan urged. “You must stop Corypheus, yes. But you may also need the well for your own.”

Evelyn ignored Morrigan and glanced back at Abelas. “I accept your offer.”

“You will be guided to those you seek,” Abelas replied, his hand waving toward a woman leaning on her staff and carrying a massive tome. “As for the Vir'abelasan... it must not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself.”

He turned to leave and Morrigan shouted. “No!” Instantly, she transformed into a Raven and took off after Abelas.

Evelyn was shocked, and she cringed. “Morrigan!” she called, fruitlessly. She was already gone.

The woman with the tome beckoned for them to follow. Evelyn glanced back to where Morrigan had disappeared and sighed. Dorian spoke quickly as they walked, his excitement building. “He said the elves destroyed themselves, before my countrymen came along. Could that be true? I can hardly believe it...”

“This would be our guide?” Evelyn guessed as the woman began to lead them through a door that she had opened with the wave of her hand.

“Mythal'enaste,” the elf said.

“That's helpful, since Morrigan chased off on her own,” Evelyn grunted.

“She turned into a bird!” Cole whispered in shock. He sounded reverent. Frankly, Evelyn didn't blame him. Shapeshifting was a rare magical talent.

As they followed their guide past all of the fighting on the other side of the walls, Evelyn caught glimpses of the chaos. The Red Templars were ruthless, but she couldn't worry about them. She was here for Samson. The rune Dagna had crafted using Red Lyrium and Maddox's tools hummed softly from her belt pouch. She had guaranteed Evelyn that it would render Samson's armor useless. She hoped that was true.

Evelyn wished there were a way to record some of the wonders they were rushing past. The temple was glorious and full of history. Real, living history of the elves. Any Dalish would have killed to be where she was. “Do you have any idea how much this place is worth?” Bull asked, his eye fixed on a golden statue of Mythal.

Evelyn snorted. “Don't let Solas hear you say that.”

“You can't tell me you weren't thinking it,” he grumbled and she shrugged her shoulders.

At the top of a staircase, the elf opened another door and ushered them forward. Beyond, a group of the sentinels fought a group of Red Templars. Evelyn waded into the fray with her people, jerking the fight in the favor of the elves. When the last templar fell, the elves pointed her to a door off to the right. Samson was close. The rune was humming. She rushed ahead. Through the door, she looked out over a valley that was like nature had grown in and around the temple itself. Below, Samson and some Red Templars fought another group of the elves. Before she could help, the elves fell to the monstrous Templars. She and the others hurried down the stairs to confront Samson who was crowing about how tough his Templars were. When she approached, one of the Templars pointed behind Samson. “Samson, ser, watch out!”

Samson turned to glare at her. “Inquisitor,” he growled. “You and those elf-things don't know when to stop. We come to the back end of nowhere, and here you are.”

“Leading the Inquisition takes me all sorts of interesting places,” she quipped, stepping forward.

“You came too far this time,” he warned, his eyes narrowing. “Corypheus chose me twice. First as his general, now as the vessel for the Well of Sorrows. You know what's inside the Well? Wisdom. The kind of wisdom that can scour a world. I give it to Corypheus, and he can walk into the Fade without your precious Anchor.”

“What's your part in it? What's a 'vessel'?” she asked.

“What else empties a well? I'll carry its power to Corypheus. One more task entrusted to me...” Samson preached gazing upwards to the dais where the Well stood, it's power humming all around the area. _Sure, so Corypheus doesn't need to pay whatever price comes with the Well._ “Being force fed Chantry Lyrium was good for something. This armor makes me a living fortress... mind and body. I won't forget a word of the Well's knowledge. Corypheus will be unstoppable.”

Evelyn scoffed. “Corypheus already caused one disaster. Help him now, and he'll rip the world apart.”

“I'm helping him reshape it!” Samson insisted. “He's had centuries to make ready! You're no match for Corypheus. Even if you drink from the Well, you'll never master it's wisdom as he could.” Samson stepped closer, flexing his arms. The armor burst with pent up energy, audibly radiating over his entire body. He grinned. “ _This_ is the strength the Chantry tried to bind. But it's a new world now, with a new god. So, Inquisitor. How will this go?” He pointed dramatically at her.

The hum of his armor was polar to the energy of the Well. The competing magics made her stomach churn as she pulled out Dagna's rune and activated it. “Power's all well and good. Until it's taken away.” she grinned as the rune sought his armor like a beacon, dropping him to his knees as it negated the power within it. Dagna was a genius.

He screamed, the large piece of Lyrium protruding from his chest shattering into pieces that clattered to the ground around him. “What did you do? _What did you do_!? My armor, it's gone... the Lyrium! I _need_ it! Kill them all!” he ordered as he stumbled to his feet.

Evelyn pocketed the rune and immediately dodged out of the way as one of the massive Templars smashed a rift in the ground that exploded along the crack in waves of Lyrium shards. Her staff was in her hands and she began to sling spells all around, using as many multi hit spells as she could to quell the herd of templars helping Samson. Samson grabbed a belt of Lyrium from one of the dead Templars near him and began to slurp down the potions two at a time. Evelyn's disgust was manifesting as bile in her throat as she watched the sickening display. In another world, that could have been Cullen. She pushed the thought from her mind, thankful that he had been strong enough to overcome his addiction. Samson's body began to react to the Lyrium, the months of abuse from the armor and Red Lyrium catching up with him. Suddenly he was as large as Bull. He drew his gigantic greatsword and began to swing it around above his head, threatening her people. Evelyn lifted her fist and a spirit version manifested to grab Samson and lift him into the air and slam him back down. He got up quicker than she had thought possible and Dorian began chanting. She recognized the spell and soon the ethereal purple spirits of Samson's comrades rose from their bodies and began to attack him. Evelyn circled around to get behind him and then drug her staff head along the ground, a wall of fire manifesting behind Samson. She danced out of the way of the now flaming general as he continued to bat at the spirits with his sword. Cole took advantage of his distraction to flit in and out of the way of his sword, stabbing him several times on each time past him. Samson was bleeding and he began to shrink back down to normal as he attempted to divert his power to keeping himself upright. Bull charged in through Dorian's pets to slam Samson across the face with his hammer. The man reeled back, miraculously keeping his balance as he flailed, but Evelyn reached out with her staff and hooked his ankles. He fell backwards and she drew a fist of the Maker to slam him into the water. When he attempted to roll over and crawl away, she slammed him down again, holding him under until he passed out. Bull cautiously drug him from the water and checked his pulse. Before he could get a response, Samson choked and sputtered. “Not the Well, you wretch!” he gasped. “You can't take it from Corypheus... You mustn't...” then he passed out again.

“He's not ready to go yet,” Cole said softly.

“We can take him back to Skyhold for judgment,” Evelyn said with a sigh. Just then magic erupted behind her at the dais base. Abelas appeared and began to run towards the magic, stairs appearing below his feet. “Abelas!” Evelyn shouted, giving chase.

Morrigan easily got ahead of them as a bird and landed between Abelas and the Well as he crested the stairs with Evelyn on his heels. Evelyn bypassed him as he stopped, anger welling on his features. “You heard his parting words, Inquisitor,” Morrigan warned. “The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows.”

“So the sanctum is despoiled at last,” Abelas spat, his eyes narrowing.

“You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given the chance,” Morrigan accused, crossing her arms.

“To keep it from your grasping fingers!” he retorted, his fists clenching. “Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving.”

“Fool! You'd let your people's legacy rot in the shadows!” Morrigan argued.

“Enough!” Evelyn said, stepping between them.

“You cannot honestly...” Morrigan began, her voice raised.

“I said, enough!” Evelyn turned on her.

Morrigan backed down at Evelyn's harsh tone and Abelas balked. “The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor,” Morrigan said, much more calmly. “If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?”

“Do you even know what you ask?” Asbelas said sadly. “As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on... through this.” He held a cautious hand out, approaching the Well slowly. “All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever.”

Evelyn could almost taste his pain. “It's better that knowledge remain in the Well, never passed on? You'd rather destroy it?” She asked softly.

Abelas glanced from her to the Well. “You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny. Is that your desire? To partake of the Vir'abelasan as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

Evelyn held up a hand to Morrigan who looked ready to pounce. “Not without your permission,” she said.

“One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right.” He sighed and turned away to face the stairway back down. “The Vir'abelasan may be too much for a mortal to comprehend.” He turned back to look directly to Evelyn, his choice of who should drink evident. “Brave it if you must, but know you this. You shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

“Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?” Morrigan scoffed.

“Bound, as we are bound,” Abelas corrected. “The choice is yours.”

“You can walk away from the temple? Just like that?” Evelyn asked.

“After you drink, nothing remains to hold us,” Abelas said with a brief smile. Then he turned and left.

Morrigan glanced at her and then approached the still waters of the Well. It was a large round pool, barely knee deep. Across the pool stood a large mirror. “You'll note the intact Eluvian,” Morrigan said. “I was correct on that count, at least.”

“Is it still a threat? Can Corypheus use it to travel the Fade?” Evelyn asked. Without his 'vessel' he might not dare drink on his own.

“You recall when I took you through my Eluvian, I said each required a key? The Well _is_ the key. Take it's power, and Mythal's last Eluvian will be no more use to Corypheus than glass.” Morrigan paused, breathing in the atmosphere that Evelyn had been feeling caress over her skin since the moment they entered the chamber. “I did not expect the Well to feel so... hungry.”

“Seems like that should be a concern,” Evelyn quipped.

“Knowledge begets a hunger for more,” Morrigan said, her eyes glued to the Well. She finally dragged her gaze away to look back at Evelyn. “I am willing to pay the price the Well demands. I am also the best suited to use its knowledge in your service.” Evelyn knew how much Morrigan wanted the Well, and that desire was what gave her pause in handing it over. “Of those present, I alone have the training to make use of this. Let me drink, Inquisitor.”

“ 'You alone'? You're not the only mage here,” Evelyn said, crossing her arms. Morrigan was the only one present who had more reason not to use the Well in her opinion. What was she thinking when it came to her son? What if the Well killed her? Would Kieran understand?

“I have studied the oldest lore. I have delved into mysteries of which you could only dream! Can you honestly tell me there is anyone better suited?” Morrigan demanded.

Evelyn bit her lip and nodded gently. “I would be...”

“You lead the Inquisition. This is not a risk you can take,” Morrigan reasoned, but to Evelyn that simply made her the perfect candidate. The leader took the risk. That was how it worked. “I have the best chance of making use of the Well... for everyone. Let me drink.”

“You're not concerned about the price? 'Bound forever to the will of Mythal'?” Evelyn asked, again thinking of Kieran.

“Bound to the will of a dead god? It seems an empty warning,” Morrigan said with a small smile. “Perhaps a compulsion yet remains. Who can say otherwise? I do not fear it, even so.”

“I hate to say it, but Abelas' plan to destroy the Well may be the best one,” Evelyn sighed, looking out over the clear, still water.

“What happens when Corypheus comes for you again? He is _immortal_. The wisdom of the Well may include a way to destroy him. Give me this, and I fight at your side. I shall be your sword.”

Evelyn suddenly discovered exactly what she was feeling as her mind raced through the possibilities on the Well. “Looking at it, listening to it... that's not just knowledge from the ancient elven priests. It's their will...” she gasped.

“How would you know such a thing?” Morrigan asked, her eyes falling on Evelyn as if she had never seen her before.

“ _That's_ what Abelas was telling us. The collective will of the priests puts anyone who drinks under a compulsion, a geas... Can't you feel it?” Evelyn almost sang, her heart beating rhythmically with the magic all around.

“That... _would_ match the legends, but it does not tell us what the geas entails,” Morrigan said shakily. “I would still use the Well, but you are right. We must be cautious.”

“Thoughts?” Evelyn asked, turning to her companions.

Dorian shook his head almost immediately, likely feeling the pull of the Well himself. “It all seems ghoulish. Let Morrigan use it, if she wants it so much.”

“So many voices,” Cole chanted in time with the magic. “They would be in your head, talking over you. You don't want them.”

“Any chance this Well could help us against Corypheus, I say you take it,” Bull added, his opinion the only one telling her to dive in.

Evelyn glanced back at the Well, again worrying at her lip with her teeth. Her gut was telling her that it should be her. “Enough deliberation,” Morrigan said with a swipe of her hand. “Give me your decision.”

Almost before Morrigan could finish speaking, Evelyn blurted, “If anyone is to use the Well, it will be me.”

Morrigan sneered. “So you will take what little knowledge you can understand, and let the rest go to waste?”

“And who's to say it will go to waste?” Evelyn argued. She was the professionally trained mage after all.

“I do...” Morrigan's anger slowly slipped from her face as she held Evelyn's eyes. Then she glanced at the Well again and sighed sadly. “Perhaps it is better this way.” She looked back at Evelyn. “Do as you will with the Well of Sorrows, Inquisitor. But be careful.”

Evelyn took her hand and squeezed thankfully before Morrigan nudged her toward the Well. The others all stepped back, Dorian looking positively frightened. She slowly stepped into the water. As her feet disturbed the calm waters, thin ripples cascaded across the surface. Light wisps of magic lifted from the water to dance around her body. She followed them to the center of the pool where the water was deepest. Oddly enough, her clothes didn't feel wet. She offered a smile to the others as she turned back to face them. The water was calm and peaceful, hugging her limbs like an old friend, eager to see her. She brushed her fingers through her reflection, disturbing the image before cupping her hands and lifting a sip of the water to her lips.

The water was cool, but as she swallowed it, the calm and peaceful aura disappeared to choke her, lodging in her throat. Her entire body burned as she dropped to her knees and the remainder of the water exploded outwards. Her head felt ready to burst and she forced her eyes open at the sudden breeze across her skin. A voice called out to her and her mind translated a language she had never had training in. The voice was sweet and pleasant, in direct opposition to the cacophony going on in her head. “Garas Quenathra?”

She still stood in the pool, but the water was gone. All around her hovered black and gray clouds, with wisps floating around, playfully dipping in and out around her. She could not see beyond the clouds to her friends. She glanced around, trying to find the voice, but it was coming from everywhere and nowhere. Inside her head. “ 'Why am I here'?” She asked, translating for herself. “Corypheus... a magister wishes to rip the veil open. I must learn how to stop him,” she begged through gritted teeth as she asked the voices to stop shouting. Then they began to whisper as if conferring among each other so she could not hear. “I can't understand what you're... Look! Will you help me or not?” She refused to be ignored inside her own head. The sooner they understood that, the more comfortable their relationship would be.

The voices began to calm, not all vying for space at the forefront and the splitting migraine began to ebb. “Vir Mythal'enaste.”

The wisps began to congregate in a bundle before her eyes, and then they forced themselves inside her, pulling an agonized cry from her lips as she doubled over, clutching her head. Her breathing ceased momentarily as the magic coiled with her own in her chest, squeezing like a fist over her heart. The force of the extra magic erupted inside her and the excess run off knocked her backwards.

Dorian's voice wiped away the cobwebs in her head. “There! Our intrepid leader's coming round.” Evelyn blinked, her eyelids heavy as if she had been sleeping for hours. Suddenly, her eyes flew open and she sat up and flipped from her back to her hands and knees. Excess magic still poured from her skin in a blue cloud around her. The others approached cautiously as she gasped and caught her breath before standing slowly. Dorian made to run but only made it two steps before holding himself in check as she wobbled, giving him a reassuring nod. “Not dead!” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “Well, that's a relief. So... Good? Bad? I'm dying to know...”

She walked past him, holding up her palm for a moment to regain her composure as the runoff of magic and the wisps followed her, dancing happily around her feet like a litter of happy puppies. She smiled and twirled, the magic no longer hurting, but feeling exactly like it was where it should be. As she reveled in the marvelous feeling, twirling in place, her eyes caught movement across the valley at the top of the stairs where they'd come in. She stopped to investigate the movement and she gasped. It was Corypheus, strolling in to claim his prize. The problem was, she already had it. He glanced at the wreckage of his army below and then his eyes lifted to fall on her. His cry of outrage echoed around the chamber. He used his magic to lift himself and float toward them. “The Eluvian!” Morrigan shouted.

Evelyn simply thought and her entire body was wreathed in a blue glow. The Eluvian answered, the glass shifting and erupting with magic to open the portal to the Crossroads. “Through the mirror!” She shouted to the others, dashing for the portal herself. They all ran by her, through the Eluvian and just as Bull passed through she paused to watch as a spirit lifted up from the ground in the shape of a woman and like water, poured over Corypheus, knocking him back so she could flee. Evelyn didn't take the time to waste the help. She slipped through the mirror and slammed the portal closed behind her. She felt the mirror shatter and her connection to it was lost. She had taken Corypheus' last means of entering the Fade. The Eluvian on their end cracked and turned black, she sighed in relief. The immediate threat was gone, but now they needed to get to Morrigan's mirror and return to Skyhold so she could find the fastest Raven Leliana owned to let her people know what had happened. When they wouldn't be found in the temple, Cullen would have puppies. “Morrigan. You know the Crossroads. How far to your mirror?”

“ 'Tis but a few days journey,” Morrigan assured her.

“Let's go,” Evelyn said, holding out a hand for Morrigan to lead the way.

Before she could follow, Dorian scooped her up in a breath stealing hug that she gladly returned as he mumbled in Tevene. “Festis bei umo canavarum... Don't ever scare me like that again. Are you all right?”

She offered him a smile and a kiss on his cheek. “I'm okay, really. It's... incredible. I'm going to need to start keeping a journal to record all of this knowledge.”

He smiled again in relief and ruffled her hair. “That's my little scholar.”

She grinned and they followed after Morrigan and the others, their arms locked. Evelyn listened to the whispers of excited voices, eager to share. Unlike Cole's assumption, they did not clamor to talk over her. They whispered among themselves and she was perfectly capable of shutting them out if she chose to. She sighed in relief, convinced that her decision had been the proper one. She felt stronger, her mana stores deeper and her body sang with new sensations as the magic crackled through her veins. She could already feel the sensations fading into the background.

 

It was impossible to tell the difference between night and day in the Crossroads, and Evelyn was eager to be out of there so she could find out how the battle went after they had left. She feared for Cullen and for the others. What if Corypheus had retaliated after the Eluvian shattered? When Morrigan finally stopped them in front of an Eluvian, the surroundings looking familiar to Evelyn, she sighed in relief. Morrigan activated the portal and stepped through. The others followed on her heels and Evelyn took one last look around before stepping through herself. Morrigan closed the portal and Evelyn immediately sped off to find Josephine. The voices in her head were bursting with excitement. Skyhold's magic was familiar.

“You're alive!” Josephine gasped as Evelyn burst into her office.

“It's a very long story which I will gladly tell you later. Is there any news from the Wilds?” Evelyn begged, moving to lean against Josephine's desk.

To her credit, the Ambassador collected herself and nodded. “The reports all coming in from the front lines say that Corypehus' army crumbled and he and his dragon fled the field not long after you and the others entered the temple.”

“He fled?” she gasped.

Josie nodded. “Cullen reported seeing the feat with his own two eyes. He went into the temple not long after, with a company of soldiers, to find it deserted and the unconscious Samson that you left for him. His report was brief and Leliana's report explains why. He apparently believes...” Josie swallowed and her eyes told the story.

“He thinks we're dead,” Evelyn choked. She grabbed up a empty slip of parchment and the quill right out of Josie's grip, and scribbled an apology. “I need a raven.”

“How did you...?” Josie began, but sighed and shooed Evelyn at her desperate look. Until the raven was underway, she would not be able to explain anything to anyone.

“Gather the others in the War room. I will explain everything. I just need to get this to Cullen as quickly as possible,” Evelyn said, already halfway out the door. She bolted through the main hall and up the winding staircase to the rookery. Choosing Leliana's favorite raven, she attached the tiny rolled up note to it's leg and gave the enchanted bird a pat on its head. “Okay Baron Plucky... get this to Cullen as quickly as your pretty wings can carry you.” The bird cawed loudly, flaring it's wings and nipped at her finger. “Oh, sorry. Your _handsome_ wings,” she corrected with a smile. The raven nodded and took off out the open door behind her.

 

She waited three days for a response, practically haunting the rookery. When Baron Plucky returned, she accepted his feet on her forearm as she gently undid the note with shaking fingers. The raven touched it's head to her cheek after she offered him a treat before opening the note.

_My dearest Evelyn,_

_You'll forgive me if I do not take solace in the written word, but my heart is lighter. How you got back to Skyhold is likely a story for the history books. By the time this reaches you I should be a day's ride away. I am breaking away from the armies who, as you know, take an eternity to march anywhere. I need to look upon you with my own eyes and hold you in my arms. I shall see you in a day, my love._

_Cullen_

_P.S. I am terrible at letters. Just ask my sister._

Evelyn sighed, relieved that she would see him within 24 hours. So much had happened and she was bursting to share it with him. She had come to a very amenable alliance with the elven voices in her head and they whispered secrets to her when she allowed them access to her thoughts. Solas had jumped on her for taking such a valuable thing from his people, but when she had assured him she was going to use her power to restore some of the history and power lost to the elves, he had smiled and told her that she had surprised him and 'impressed' him. Something she had not thought possible. Sera had threatened her with her bow to make sure it was 'still her in there' and then baked terrible cookies as an apology which they shared on the roof outside her room in the tavern.

 

She waited just inside the gates the next day, listening for hoof beats approaching. When she finally heard them around mid day, her entire body melted in relief as he sped toward her at a gallop from the drawbridge. He hopped off his horse as he passed through the magic barrier around Skyhold before the beast even pulled to a stop. His momentum forced him into her and he picked her up to spin her around. She giggled as he set her down, reaching up to tuck his usual stray hair back into the rest of his ruffled waves. He cupped her face to get a better look at her and his features were painted with a slew of emotions that left her with tears in her eyes. She threw herself against him and he hugged her tightly as she buried her face in the wonderful scent of him. She could feel the tightness of his muscles, not allowing him to relax just yet. “Maker, I thought I'd lost you.” he mumbled against her hair, his large hand cradling her head against his neck.

“I'm so sorry. We escaped the only way we could. When Corypheus came into the chamber, I opened the Eluvian and we went through... I didn't know he would break it and cut us off...” She babbled, trying to explain.

“Wait...” he grudgingly pulled away from her to frown, his hands still on her upper arms, his thumbs caressing gently. “ _You_ opened the Eluvian.?”

“Oh, right.” She bit her lip. “Josie's reports probably didn't get there before you left. I have a lot to tell you.”

The frown Faded as he watched her worrying at her bottom lip. “Andraste forgive me, I don't care.” he pulled her into a deeply satisfying kiss, his own teeth grazing her lip as he pulled away. “Let's go somewhere more private and you can tell me everything.”

 

That was exactly what she did under the ray of sunshine that cascaded in through the hole in his roof as they laid naked, coiled in blankets that had been ripped from his bed. “The pain, it was unbearable at first, but now... Cullen, it's... amazing. There is so much to learn... I don't even know where to start.” She chuckled, propping herself on her elbow, her marked hand holding the weight of her head as she moved to trace lazy circles over his chest with the other.

He grinned up at her, all of his concern chased away by their escapades. He reached up and traced her cheek with his thumb. “You're so happy you're glowing. It's nice to see.”

“I hope you don't mean literally,” she laughed. “That happened when I opened the Eluvian. I was blue for about two minutes.”

He laughed, catching her wandering hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “You are insane, Evelyn Trevelyan.”

She shrugged. “Someone has to keep things interesting around here.”

 

Leliana arrived a day after Cullen, having left the army in Rylen's care. They were still over a week's march from Skyhold. Evelyn had the sad task of sitting in judgment ahead of her. Blackwall, Rainier, whoever he was, had been her friend. His guilt and remorse were written all over his face as he stood before her, a broken man. She steepled her fingers, praying for strength as she looked down from her throne. Josephine sighed and stepped up to stand beside her. “For judgment this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall. His crimes... well, you are aware of his crimes. The decision of what to do with him is yours.” Josie sighed and cleared the hall so that Evelyn could be alone with Blackwall. He refused to look at her and she sat forward, her face in her hands. She had thought extensively about this moment as they crossed from the Wilds through the Eluvians. Everything would fall on what he had to say.

“I didn't think this would be easy,” she confessed sadly, “but it's harder than I thought...”

A shifting of chains brought her attention back to him. “Another thing to regret,” he sighed. “Using your ties to the Underworld to free me? You're a criminal, same as me,” he accused. She cringed. Leliana had not divulged how she had released Blackwall, but Evelyn had figured it had not been all together legal. Good old Leliana. “The world will learn how you've used your influence. They'll know the Inquisition is corrupt.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. He was not making this any easier, and she knew that was his goal. He was goading her. He wanted her to swing the executioners axe. She would not be so easily manipulated. “I wish there'd been another way, but my options were limited.”

“You could have left me there!” he shouted, his voice ringing through the empty hall. “I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all this to end. Why would you stop it? What becomes of me now?” he asked, a single brow raised in question.

She sat up straighter and wagged a finger at him as she spoke. “Blackwall intended you join the Wardens. I will let them decide your fate.... But only when Corypheus is dead. For now, Thom Rainier, the Inquisition needs you.”

He took a step back and hung his head. “As you command.”

She stood up and approached him. “Blackwall gave you the chance to atone through action, not merely punishment. I find I can do no less.”

He glanced up at her, understanding dawning on his face. “I... am grateful for this, Inquisitor, and I will serve for as long as I can.” He bowed low.

She smiled and took his manacles in her hands, slipping the key in the lock and undoing the chains. “I pray you survive the joining when your times comes... Warden Rainier.”

“Maybe, just Thom... I'm so used to being Blackwall, it sounds strange to use my real name,” he said with a bitter smile.

She nodded and allowed him to go.

She had some time before the scheduled War Room meeting and she took a deep breath and headed toward the gardens. She needed to clear her head. As she passed by the small shrine to Andraste where many of the Inquisition came to pray, she glanced in to see if she might get a chance herself to take a moment. What she saw puzzled her. She stepped in silently, listening to his humming voice as he recited from the Chant. “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's light and nothing that he has wrought shall be lost.”

“A prayer for you?” she asked softly, approaching him. He glanced behind him to see her framed in the doorway.

“For those we have lost... and those I am afraid to lose,” he sighed, remaining crouched, his hands still clasped together.

“You're afraid?” she asked.

“Of course I am! Corypheus possessed that Grey Warden at Mythal. What more is he capable of? It's only a matter of time before he retaliates.” He stood and turned to face her, the worry he spoke of etched across his face. “We must draw strength, wherever we can.” Instead of approaching to take her in his arms, he sighed deeply and walked past her, afraid to show the weakness she could hear in his voice as he whispered. “When the time comes, you will be thrown into his path again. Andraste preserve me, I must send you to him...” His head hung, obscuring his face behind the tuft of fur on his pauldrons.

Her stomach railed and her heart clenched. She touched his arms gently and smiled. “There's nothing to worry about. I have luck on my side, remember?”

He chuckled softly and pulled her to him. “That's less comforting than I'd hoped.” She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in that fur, her arms wound tightly around his neck. She was as scared as he was. She didn't want to die, but it still could happen. She wanted nothing more than to stay right where they were, hiding in each other's arms. His breath inhaled ragged, and she knew his tears were matching hers. He held her tightly, his arms behind her like a shield from the world. “Whatever happens, you _will_ come back.”

She couldn't help herself. She needed to dig them both from the pit they had just fallen into without warning. Her chuckle was forced through her tears. “Is that an order, Commander?”

His breath was warm against her neck as he sighed, humor in his own tone when he spoke. “No, but as one of your advisers, I strongly recommend it.”

She laughed softly. “If you say so.”

Still, they refused to let go. Here, under that watch of Andraste, they were safe. In each other's arms, they were safe.

Evelyn was certain they were late for their meeting. When Morrigan strode by, clearing her throat as she passed to draw their attention, Evelyn reluctantly pulled away from his embrace. He stroked her cheeks, brushing away whatever tears she had accumulated and she swallowed any more. She patted his chest over his cuirass and drew in a deep breath before she spoke. “The war council awaits.”

“After you,” he offered, holding out his hand. She left the prayer room and followed Morrigan toward the main hall and into the War Room.

They all took their places around the table and Evelyn sighed. “Okay, what do we have?”

Cullen took the chance to reiterate his reports quickly. “I'm pleased to report we won the battle, Inquisitor. When you went through that mirror, Corypheus and his Archdemon fled the field. I'm not sure why.”

“What he wanted was no longer within the temple,” Morrigan explained.

“Perhaps,” Cullen agreed, his hands resting on his sword. That small piece of calm familiarity allowed Evelyn some peace as he spoke. “He spent so long trying to get into the temple, he probably couldn't have helped his forces by that point.”

“Then Corypheus is finished?” Josephine asked hopefully. Evelyn cringed, knowing she was wrong.

“If he is wise, he will hide and rebuild his strength before he attacks again,” Leliana said, her hips swaying.

The Well of Sorrows rose up in Evelyn's mind, and she opened her senses to listen, closing her eyes to block out the room. The voices were muffled, but the general consensus was, no. She felt herself speak before she opened her eyes and the voices Faded. “He won't hide.”

When she looked up, all eyes were on her. How long had she taken to listen? Morrigan gasped. “You hear it. The Well speaks to you.”

“It's... voices, whispering from so far away I can barely hear them...” she admitted.

Morrigan pursed her lips before sneering, her nose wrinkling in anger. “If only one who understood such voices had used the Well's power instead.”

“Then we'd have to rely on _her_ interpretation of them and whatever she chose to tell us,” Leliana spat.

“Have I not been forthcoming enough for you, Spymaster?” Morrigan answered with equal venom. Then she turned her ire back on Evelyn. “I told you what the Well _could_ have done, Inquisitor. You should be hearing shouts from the heavens, not whispers!”

“Then help me!” Evelyn growled. “Isn't that what you came here to do?”

Morrigan had already been helping her sift through some of the voices while they traveled. “Earlier, you said you knew what needed to be done next. What did you mean?”

Evelyn grinned, excited to reveal the secret that the Well had revealed to her. “The dragon isn't an Archdemon. It's a dragon in which Corypheus has invested part of his power. Kill it and his ability to jump to other bodies is disrupted for a time. He can be killed.”

“That's... no simple task,” Leliana pointed out. “Corypheus alone is powerful, but with his dragon...”

“There is a way,” Evelyn interrupted. “But I'll need Morrigan's help.”

“The voices from the Well tell you that, do they?” Morrigan sighed. “Very well, Inquisitor. Speak to me when you are ready to begin this 'plan' of yours.”

Morrigan trudged out angrily, and the others exchanged glances. “Are you... certain of this?” Josephine asked.

Evelyn snorted. “I don't think 'certain' is the right word...”

 


	15. Downtime, Dragons and Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn finally must face Corypheus.

That evening, Evelyn was killing time by taking a walk along the battlements when she found Cole sitting on the edge, over looking the snow covered mountain below. She approached him, glancing out at the stars overhead. “Corypheus died, and then he didn't... That's why he always felt wrong, like he didn't fit inside himself. He wears another man's life.” Cole frowned, the moon reflecting off the metal top of his hat. “I thought dying was forever.”

Evelyn lifted herself up to sit beside him, turning to dangle her legs over the side as well. “So did I. Corypheus seems to break a lot of rules.”

Cole stood and paced along the narrow ledge, making her stomach flip as she watched. “But is it him? Is he real? If a man can be dead and then not... Could I have saved the real Cole?”

“What happened to him wasn't your fault.” Evelyn held out her hand and Cole came back to sit beside her again.

He sighed. “His hands were bruised from beating on the wall. It was dark like the cabinet where he hid to escape his father. His belly hurt like knives, throat cracked dry. He was alone.” Evelyn took Cole's hand and he gripped hers tightly. “I pushed through and held his hand.” he squeezed hers when he described the act. “It was all I could do... He said, 'thank you'.” Cole fell silent and Evelyn allowed him to comfort himself in her hand. “Thank you,” he said to her, then resumed staring out over the snow.

She held his hand for a bit longer until he turned a smile on her and allowed her to leave. Cole really had a way of making her feel desperate for companionship. She turned around and hopped off the ledge to find Dorian. She had hardly spoken with him since the temple and she really needed his insight. She found him reading in his favorite chair and she smiled as she approached. He glanced up at her approach and a warm grin enveloped his features. “Just the woman I've been meaning to talk to.” He marked his page and set the book aside. She scooted him aside and forced herself into the seat beside him, leaning her head on his chest as he shifted to accommodate her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. “What happened at the elven temple... It's got me thinking. I should go back, shouldn't I? To Tevinter, once this is done... if we're still alive.” Evelyn shifted to look at his face as he spoke. “All my talk of how terribly wrong things are back home, but what do I do about it? Nothing...”

“How does this relate to the elven temple?” she asked, resting her right palm on his chest and fiddling with one of the many buckles on his clothing.

“That elf, Abelas. He said the Imperium wasn't what destroyed the elves... My people would never accept that. It would reduce us to scavengers, destroy our legacy no matter how terrible. But we should accept it.” his thumb rubbed up and down on her shoulder. “take our history down a peg, confront the legacy hanging over us like a shroud. Maybe not all of us want to,” he shrugged beneath her head. “but that could be altered. If you can change minds, so can I.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Someone with your impeccable taste could transform Tevinter.”

He sighed. “I hope you're right. You usually are... It might surprise you to know that you're the one who inspired me.” he lifted her chin so she was looking at him again. “You're shaping the world... For good or ill. How could I aspire to do any less? It if means proving that Tevinter can be better, that there's hope, even for my homeland? I would do anything.”

She smiled. “For what it's worth, I'll miss you.”

“Of course you will.” He reached over and picked up his book again. “So, why are you here at this hour? Not that I mind, but isn't our dear Commander's bed getting cold?”

“He's overseeing our defenses while the army is still away,” she shrugged.

“There you are!” Varric's voice came from near the stairwell. “I've been looking everywhere for you. We were about to start without you!”

“Start what?” Evelyn asked, struggling to extricate herself from the chair. Dorian helped with a gentle push.

Varric grinned. “You too, Sparkler, let's go.” He waved his hand for them to follow and set off back toward the stairs. He led them through the night air to the tavern. Inside, the two largest tables had been pushed together in front of the fire and nearly everyone she knew was seated around them, drinks in hand and a deck of cards in Josie's hands. Varric had taught her months ago how to play Wicked Grace, but she had never played with so many variables. “I found her, Ruffles! Deal them in!” Varric moved to one of the empty seats near the fire, next to Cullen. Although disappointed, Evelyn still offered Cullen a small smile as she moved to sit between Cassandra and Josie, Dorian melting into the other empty seat beside Varric.

“I do hope I recall the rules!” Josie said with an excited giggle. It's been ages since I've played a game of Wicked Grace.

On Josie's other side sat Cole, looking in wonder at his cards as Josephine artfully shuffled and handed out the cards. Bull took up the entire opposite end of the table and Blackwall sat sheepishly to Cullen's left. Light snoring indicated that someone had already had too much fun beneath the table. On further inspection, it was Sera, curled up at Bull's feet like a contented cat. “We playing cards or what?” Bull demanded, chugging from his mug.

“Are three Drakes better than a pair of swords? I can never remember,” Cassandra asked, looking at her cards with a frown.

“Seeker, remember how I said, 'Don't show anyone your hand'? That rule includes announcing it to the table,” Varric chided with a smirk.

“There's a crown on his head, but a sword, too. His head didn't want either,” Cole announced, pointing to the card in his hand.

Varric chuckled. “Don't talk to the face cards, kid,”

“You seem to have enough people,” Cullen said, moving to get up. “I have a thousand things to do.”

Dorian sighed. “Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming. Give it a try.” His head tipped in Evelyn's direction and she flashed Cullen a smile that dropped him back in his seat.

“Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it's you,” Varric patted his shoulder amiably.

“Dealer starts,” Josie said, picking through a small change purse. “Ooh, I... believe... I'll start at... three coppers! Do you think that's too daring? Maybe I'll make it one... No! Boldness! Three it is!” She dropped her money in the pot.

Bull leaned forward and a rustle of coins sounded near him, several of them hitting the floor. “Seriously? Who starts at three coppers? Silver, or go home.” He dropped a coin in with Josie's bet.

“Sounds good. I'm in,” Blackwall announced, adding his coin.

“Bolder the better, right? I'm in,” Dorian grinned.

“Me, too,” Varric called. “Well, Aurora, are you in?”

Evelyn grinned. “I'm in and raising another silver.” She sat forward, folding her hands over the cards she hadn't even looked at yet.

Cullen gaped. “You haven't even looked at your cards!”

Varric chuckled. “Our illustrious leader is betting we're bluffing.”

“You _are_ bluffing!” Blackwall pointed out with a grin.

The game went on through the night, keeping them all up until well after midnight swapping stories and drinking and laughing. Around the second bell, Josie joyously announced, “And the dealer takes everything. I win again!”

“Deal again,” Cullen challenged, leaning forward. “I've figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

“Commander! Everyone knows a lady has no tells,” Josie teased.

“Then lets see if your good fortune lasts one more hand...”

That is how an hour later, Cullen was sitting across from her, beet red and stark naked. Josie was tittering and Varric snickered. “Don't say a word, dwarf,” Cullen growled in warning.

Varric's chuckle was barely choked down. “I tried to warn you, Curly.”

“Never bet against an Antivan, Commander,” Josie smirked.

Cassandra banged her hands on the table. “I'm leaving. I don't want to witness our Commander's walk of shame back to the Barracks...”

“Well, I do,” Dorian slurred, a grin and a wink finding their way to Evelyn who flushed on Cullen's behalf.

“It comes off!” Cole said in awe. “I didn't know it came off...”

The crowd dispersed, all but Bull, and Evelyn gave Cullen an apologetic look. He squared his shoulders, accepting his fate and when she stood and turned, she heard his chair scrape against the floor followed by Bull's roar of encouragement as he quickly made for the stairs to head for the battlements and the quickest route back to his tower. Evelyn approached Varric to thank him for the evening. It had been nice to have everyone together. Before she could speak, he said, “I'm glad you decided to join us tonight. It's too easy to mistake you for the Inquisitor.”

“You're mistaking me for me? How much did you have to drink?” Evelyn asked, her own vision swimming a bit.

“It's easy to forget you're not just an icon or symbol. Like those statues of Andraste holding bowls of fire... At least it is for me. You up for another game when this is all over, Aurora?” he explained.

“I wouldn't miss it!” she assured him.

“Good! It'll take me a while to talk Cullen into it. Maybe I'll work the 'revenge' angle.” He patted her shoulder and started for the exit.

Bull nudged at Sera beneath the table with his foot and she grunted. “Wha.. whozat? Did I win?”

“No, stringbean. Come on. Up to bed with you.” He leaned under the table and picked her up to carry her upstairs. “Night, boss,” he grumbled.

Evelyn smiled and followed behind them, planning on checking on Cullen. Cole handed her Cullen's clothes as she passed by his attic haunt. “Josephine said Cullen would want these back.”

“Thank you, Cole,” Evelyn smiled, taking the clothes and making for the battlements. She left the armor pieces stacked on his desk and headed up his ladder. Cullen was sitting on his bed, leather pants pulled on. “Mind if I join you?” she asked softly.

He glanced at her and then a small smile crept over his lips as he waved her over. She climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and sauntered over to join him. “I think I'll stick with chess from now on. At least when I play that, I don't wind up naked.”

She placed her palms on his shoulders and guided him onto his back so she could straddle him with a chuckle. “I don't know. I might need to arrange that for our next match.”

His hands lifted to rest on her hips, his thumbs getting beneath her shirt to caress over her skin. “The most likely scenario to come from that is you will be the one who loses her clothes. You haven't beaten me yet,” he teased.

She grinned “Well, then you win twice.”

He chuckled. “Indeed.”

 

The next day when Evelyn finally got out of bed, Cullen was already awake and down in his office. She pulled on her clothes and climbed quietly down the ladder, making certain they were alone. “I kept the doors locked,” he said with a grin as he noticed her caution.

“I'd be more impressed if you could have stolen some coffee from Josie,” she grinned approaching him to steal a quick good morning kiss.

He snorted. “Are you kidding me? I am going nowhere near that woman for at least a few days. I am never playing cards again. I still can't find my... it doesn't matter. I don't know how Varric talked me into that.”

“That's too bad... Watching you lose made me want to play cards more often,” Evelyn teased, tapping her fingernails on the metal of his cuirass.

“I do not need help embarrassing myself in front of you,” he said with annoyance.

“You were blushing. It was adorable,” she stood on her toes and nipped at his ear.

“Maker's breath,” he sighed. She laughed as he began to blush again. “Sometimes, you are insufferable.”

“I'm the Inquisitor. I think it's part of the job,” she shrugged. “Now, I should go and speak to Morrigan.”

“Good luck,” he offered, giving her a kiss that told her he was not angry with her teasing.

She left his tower and headed for the gardens where she could usually find Morrigan. Evelyn could feel the tug of magic and she followed to source to the Eluvian. The mirror stood open and Leliana stood in front of it looking indecisive. “Inquisitor! Thank the Maker you're here! Morrigan chased after her son into the Eluvian. She was terrified.”

“She was chasing Kieran?” Evelyn asked with shock.

Leliana nodded. “She said he activated the mirror somehow, and then she ran into it. I've never seen Morrigan like that. You must go after her! I will find help, Inquisitor.”

Leliana ran off and Evelyn boldly stepped through the mirror. She gasped when she came out on the other side. “Wait... this isn't the Crossroads. This is the Fade!” she said to herself. At first glance, she saw nothing, but a twisted image of her surroundings. She contemplated going back, but a child was in danger. The Fade was no place for Kieran to be alone, no matter how 'special' he was. She began to walk, almost jogging as her gut urgently tugged her forward. This could be a needle in a haystack scenario. The faster they found Kieran, the easier it would be. Not far along the path, she called out to a familiar figure. “Morrigan!”

“Go back!” the woman shouted, her voice breaking in fear. “I must find Kieran before it's too late!” When Evelyn refused to leave, Morrigan hugged herself, looking all around the open area she was standing in as curious spirits hovered around. “Why would Kieran do this? _How_ could he do this? We stand in the Fade! To direct the Eluvian here would require immense power.” She shook her head and dropped her arms. “If he is lost to me, now after all I have sacrificed...” A tear dripped down her cheek, adding to the drops that had congregated on her face from the misty air around them.

Evelyn gripped her shoulder. “We'll find him, Morrigan. He can't be far.”

“The Fade is infinite,” Morrigan shrugged away from her touch. “He could literally be anywhere.” She pushed past Evelyn and began to hurry ahead. “Whatever happens to him now, 'tis my doing. I set him on this path. Please, help me look Inquisitor. Just a little longer...”

Evelyn nodded. “Of course.”

She drew upon the spirits from the Well, and her gut tugged her forward again. They had already been leading her before she even asked. She followed the spirits who were becoming increasingly excited, buzzing happily in her head. After about five minutes of searching, Evelyn spotted Kieran in the distance. He stood over an elderly woman who was kneeling in front of him. He was casting some sort of spell, and Evelyn slowed to get a better look before approaching. “There he is!” Morrigan cried.

“Who's with him?” Evelyn asked.

“That... no... it cannot be!” Morrigan gasped and pushed ahead.

Kieran snapped his fingers as Morrigan approached him, ending his spell. “Mother!” He smiled happily.

“Mother...” Morrigan growled, her attention on the woman kneeling before Kieran.

The woman stood gracefully, giving Evelyn a full view of her. She was dressed in thin maroon leather robes that clung tight to her impressively well preserved figure for someone her age. Her pure white hair was done up and sculpted on top to look like the horns of a dragon. The wrinkles on her face were the only indicator that she was on in years. A golden mask framed her forehead and cheeks, showing off her bone structure without hiding her features. The woman had power and a lot of it. “Well, isn't this a surprise?”

“So, this is all some kind of... family reunion?” Evelyn asked wondering where the woman had come from.

The older woman chuckled. “Mother, daughter, grandson. It rather warms the heart does it not?”

Morrigan's fists balled and she growled a response. “Kieran is _not_ your grandson. Let him go!”

“As if I were holding the boy hostage. She's always been ungrateful, you see?” Everything the woman said was laced with a taunting, humorous tone that made it sound like she believed everything she said to be quite amusing.

“Ungrateful?” Morrigan raged. “I know how you plan to extend your life, Wicked Crone! You will not have me, and you will not have my son!” Morrigan called her magic, moving to cast on the woman.

Her mother sighed and rolled her eyes. Then she looked at Evelyn. “Be a good lass and restrain her.”

She lifted her palm and a compulsion fell over Evelyn. Without warning, she stepped forward and grabbed Morrigan around her waist and Evelyn's mana sucked Morrigan's own from her veins. “What are you doing?” Morrigan shouted as Evelyn bodily dragged her backwards.”What... are you doing?”

“I don't know!” Evelyn said through gritted teeth, clutching her head after letting Morrigan go.

“Of course you know,” Morrigan's mother said, drawing their attention back to her. “You drank from the Well, did you not?”

Morrigan gasped. “You... are Mythal...”

Evelyn shook her head, her stomach twisting in knots of fear and her heart racing a mile a minute. “You can't be Mythal! That's not possible!”

She cackled, a few short sounds. “Explain to me, dear girl, why I cannot be what I am.”

“Whatever Mythal was, she died long ago,” Evelyn pointed out.

“So she did,” the woman nodded once, then smiled down at Kieran giving him a nudge toward Morrigan. He went with a grin and Morrigan grabbed him up, hugging him tightly.

“I'm sorry, mother. I heard her calling to me. She said now was the time,” he explained, moving to stand beside her mother again.

“I do not understand,” Morrigan whimpered.

“Once I was but a woman, crying out in the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me, a wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more... I have carried Mythal through the ages ever since, seeking the justice denied to her.”

“Then... you carry Mythal inside you?” Evelyn reasoned, feeling her muscles return to her own control.

“She is a part of me, no more separate than your heart from your chest... What do the voices tell you?” she asked knowingly.

Evelyn had already felt their excitement as they had approached her. She didn't need to open the doors and listen to know the answer. “They say you speak the truth.”

“But what _was_ Mythal? A legend given name and called a god, or something more?” the woman asked, the golden eyes she shared with Morrigan glistening with secrets. “Truth is not the end, but a beginning. A Herald, indeed. Shouting to the Heavens, Harbinger of a new Age. As for me, I have had many names. But you... may call me Flemeth.”

Evelyn had heard that name before. “If Mythal is within you, why not reveal yourself?”

“And to whom should I reveal myself?” she asked with a chuckle.

“To the elves! To everyone?” Evelyn said biting her lip.

Flemeth cackled again. “I knew the hearts of men even before Mythal came to me. It is _why_ she came to me. They do not _want_ the truth, and I... I am but a shadow, lingering in the sun.”

“Why _did_ Mythal come to you?” Evelyn asked.

“For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens,” Flemeth said simply.

“And you follow her whims?” Morrigan asked. “Do you even know what she truly is?”

“You seek to preserve the powers that were, but to what end?” Flemeth asked, her brows rising. “It is because I taught you, girl. Because things happened that were never meant to happen. _She_ was betrayed as I was betrayed... as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!” Flemeth paused, reigning in the magic that crackled through the air. “Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance.”

Evelyn took the opportunity to ask. “I presume you know what we're up against?”

“Better than you could possibly imagine,” Flemeth admitted with a smile.

“So will you help us?” Evelyn begged.

“Once I have what I came for,” Flemeth glanced down at Kieran and he smiled back at her.

“No, I will not allow it!” Morrigan said with defiance.

“He carries a piece of what once was, snatched from the jaws of darkness. You know this,” Flemeth warned.

“He is not your pawn, mother! I will not let you use him!” Morrigan growled.

“Have you not used him? Was that not your purpose, the reason you agreed to his creation?” Flemeth grinned.

“That was then,” Morrigan said softly. “Now he... he is my son.” Flemeth's expression shifted to shock at Morrigan's distress. She glanced between Evelyn, Morrigan and the boy. Morrigan stepped back, relaxing her threatening stance. “Flemeth extends her life by possessing the bodies of her daughters, Inquisitor. That was the fate she intended for me. I thwarted her, and now she intends to have Kieran instead.”

“Wait... the way she talked about Kieran...” Evelyn hissed, needing to know why Kieran was so special.

“I am not the only one carrying the soul of a being long thought lost,” Flemeth explained.

“He is more than that, mother,” Morrigan insisted.

“As am I, yet do you hear me complain? Our destinies are not so easily avoided, dear girl.” Flemeth crossed her arms.

“Mother, I have to,” Kieran pleaded softly.

“You do not belong to her, Kieran! Neither of us do,” Morrigan insisted.

“Whatever else you think he is, Kieran is still a child!” Evelyn growled.

“And so much better behaved than his mother was at his age,” Flemeth chuckled.

Morrigan dropped to her knees in defeat. “Kieran, I...”

The boy turned to look up at Flemeth and she smiled down at him sweetly. “As you wish. Hear my proposal, dear girl.” Morrigan stood again, ready to listen.”Let me take the lad, and you are free of me forever. I will never interfere with or harm you again. Or, keep the lad with you... and you will never be safe from me. I will have my due.”

With barely a thought Morrigan answered. “He returns with me.”

“Decided so quickly?” Flemeth asked in shock.

“Do whatever you wish. Take over my body now if you must, but Kieran will be free of your clutches. I am many things, but I will not be the mother you were to me,” Morrigan spat.

Sadness took over Flemeth's features as she regarded Morrigan. Then she turned to Kieran, taking his hands in hers. A bright ball of light burst forth from his chest and he watched it go with a smile on his face. It traveled on the air in the space between them and settled into Flemeth's chest instead. “No more dreams?” Kieran asked happily.

“No more dreams,” Flemeth nodded and smiled, letting his hands go and caressing his cheek softly. He then left her side to stand by Morrigan who smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “A soul is not forced upon the unwilling, Morrigan. You were never in danger from me.” Morrigan looked away from her mother, thoughtfulness in her expression. “As for you, Inquisitor. There is an ancient altar deep within a shaded wood. Go to it. Summon the dragon that is it's guardian.” Evelyn cocked her head in wonder. “Master it in combat, and it is yours to command against Corypheus. Fail, and die.” Flemeth turned with a flourish and casually walked off.

“Wait!” Morrigan cried, but her call fell on deaf ears.

They left the Fade, returning to Skyhold and Morrigan closed the Eluvian behind them, then turned to her son. “Are you all right, Kieran? You are not hurt?”

“I feel... lonely,” he said softly.

Morrigan took that as a good sign, smiling and caressing the boy's cheek before shooing him gently. “She wanted the Old God soul, all along. Is it worth reminding myself that perhaps I do not know everything after all?” she sighed. “My mother has the soul of an elven goddess... or whatever 'Mythal' truly was... and her plans are unknown to me.”

Evelyn realized that her hands were shaking. “I must admit, I still can't quite believe what happened.”

“It is as if something from ancient times stretched a skeletal hand into our present,” Morrigan agreed, her analogy making Evelyn even shakier. “Of course, the same could be said of Corypheus... Mother said you must summon a dragon at an ancient altar. Do you know where that is?”

“I... think so. It's a place dedicated to Mythal,” Evelyn said with a sigh.

“As, no doubt, is the guardian you must battle... Pray my mother has not led you astray, Inquisitor. She is not above doing so for her own amusement,” Morrigan warned with a small smile before walking off and leaving Evelyn with the inactive Eluvian.

 

The altar was close. Only a few days ride out of the mountains. Evelyn was certain they would make it there and back before the army was even back from the Wilds. She took Bull, Sera and Dorian with her, under the strict rules that they were not to use deadly force against the dragon. She needed it alive and in fighting shape so she could send it against Corypheus when the time came. “Coryphenuts is gonna be so pissed when you get your own dragon,” Sera said excitedly as they rode up on the altar. The clearing in the Woods was massive, giving them ample room to fight the dragon without getting trampled. Hopefully.

Evelyn approached the altar and called out to Mythal. Her summons was answered by a deafening roar. A huge, yellow and green dragon with a red and orange underbelly swooped in from nowhere, landing with a crash in the middle of the clearing. It reared it's head back and Evelyn could feel the magic gathering in it's throat. The heat immediately opened her pores and she began to sweat, even before the dragon unleashed the fiery stream of breath from it's lungs. Sera giggled madly. “It's breathing fire! Did you see that?”

“Remember, don't kill it!” Evelyn shouted as she called her own magic to counteract the unbearable heat.

Several minutes later, her mana was running low, but not nearly as low as Dorian's. The boost from the Well gave her strength to stifle the fire that came from the beast's lungs. Dozens of patches of grass burned around the field and the dragon roared in anger that they were still alive. Nearly out of fire itself, it tried a new tactic. It braced it's legs and began to flap it's wings. The force created a maelstrom of wind that dragged Evelyn nearly off her feet and into the dragon's circumference. She threw a barrier up around Dorian as he struggled to regain his footing. He was exhausted. She could see it in the pinch of his brow. She ran to his side and channeled a wall of ice into her staff as she moved. She dropped to her knees beside Dorian and dragged the staff along the ground to erect the wall just as the dragon attempted to strike at Dorian with it's front leg. It caught it's leg on the spikes of ice and howled as she dragged her friend out of reach. It hopped away on three legs, Bull taking advantage of the situation and slamming his hammer into the opposite leg to drop the dragon on it's face. Sera ran up to release some arrows into the beast, her clothing burning with her own illusory flames. Evelyn shot up from Dorian's side and stepped between her and the dragon, her hands raised for Sera to stop. Sera pointed her loose bow to the ground and backed away toward Dorian. Evelyn turned and stood before the dragon. It watched her carefully with intelligent eyes as she approached cautiously. It let out a defeated huff and she swore it nodded it's head. She returned the gesture. She stopped and called on the Well. Magic sung to the surface of her skin, glyphs appearing on her skin in glowing patterns. She pushed the new magic outwards and the glyphs duplicated on the dragon's head. It got to it's feet and gingerly limped back a few paces before spreading it's massive wings and taking off.

Evelyn sighed and bent forward, resting her palms on her knees. “If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it,” Dorian said as Bull helped him to his feet. And allowed him to lean on his massive chest.

Evelyn nodded. “It will come when I summon it. Once... That's enough to fight Corypheus, however. I have my dragon.”

“So, when we find him, we'll fight between two dragons? Mad plan! Love it!” Sera said with glee.

 

Back at Skyhold, Evelyn changed and summoned the War Council to go over their plans and find out if she had missed anything important in her absence. “Did you... find what you need, Inquisitor?” Leliana asked, her tone cautious.

“And a lot more, believe me,” Evelyn smirked. “I can match the dragon. Corypheus is another story.”

“Then all that remains is to find Corypheus before he comes to us,” Cullen snarled. She knew how he felt. She was ready for this to be over.

“We've been looking for his base since all this began,” Leliana said with a sigh. “With no success.”

“His dragon must come and go from _somewhere_ ,” Cullen insisted.

Evelyn could feel the conversation spiraling into one of their usual circular arguments that could either lead them for hours or lead her to insanity. She sighed, scratching at her mark as it began to itch and burn. Josephine brought up another point. “What about the Deep Roads? We could send word to Orzammar, hire envoys to...” her words were cut off as the burning exploded in fiery magic in Evelyn's palm.

Evelyn held up her hand in front of her as the Anchor danced with a bright green light and the sky outside the stained glass windows answered in kind, the breach ripping open again in the sky. Her advisers looked back and forth between each other, her and the Breach. Evelyn snarled and closed her fist around the agony of her palm. “Corypheus!”

“ _He_ did that? But why?” Leliana asked.

Evelyn ground her nails into her palm, trying to distract herself from the searing agony of the Anchor. It hadn't hurt this badly since before her first attempt to close the breach. “Either I close the Breach again, or it swallows the world.”

“But that's madness!” Josephine gasped. “Wouldn't it kill him as well?”

Everyone glanced warily at each other and Cullen was the first to break the extended silence. “Evelyn, we have no forces to send with you... we must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds,” he pleaded.

She glanced down at her aching palm, rubbing the flesh with her opposite thumb. “Just as Corypheus expects, I suppose.” She looked up at him and apologized with her eyes. “Have everyone ready within the hour. We can't wait.” The breach crackled outside the window and the Anchor reacted, shocking up her arm.

She had to prepare herself. She turned on her heel and opened her mind to the Well's spirits. _Have the dragon on standby. In two days time, I will need it at the Temple of Sacred Ashes._ The spirits rejoiced at the news, glad to be of use.

 

Her companions had all met her at the gates, and Leliana had sent ravens out to the scouts around the temple so they could serve as a distraction until Evelyn could get there. Just as Evelyn was about to mount her horse, Cullen's hand wrapped around her upper arm. “Be careful, Evelyn. And that _is_ an order.” He pulled her to him before she could respond and kissed her so hard she thought she might split her lip on a tooth. His urgency was matched only by her own. She didn't want to go, but staying wasn't an option. Her choices were die slow and horribly from the Anchor, or go to the Temple and die by Corypheus' hand. At least if she went, she had a third choice. Kick his ancient ass and save the world.

“Goodbye, Cullen,” she said, just in case, her forehead resting against his.

He made an audible response deep in his throat as she pulled away with those words. “Don't you dare,” he growled as she mounted her horse.

She offered him a tearful smirk and shrugged before kicking her horse into a gallop.

They rode hard, everyone agreeing that stopping for the night was a bad idea. Instead, they pushed through the mountains in the freezing night air, barely stopping to rest the horses. When they arrived in the middle of the night at the temple, the air all around was super charged by the Breach. Rocks lifted from the ground to hover on the thick energy. Evelyn's skin rose in goose flesh and she tamed her wild hair with a strip of leather, tying it in a tail. Corypheus was already fighting with some of the scouts that Leliana had set in his path. Cassandra rushed in first, saving one of them from a terror demon who tried to slash his gut open with it's long claws.

Corypheus hovered near the gates of the temple, his orb in his hand. At the sight of her, he scowled. “I knew you would come,” he spat angrily.

Evelyn pointed with her marked hand at him. “It ends here, Corypheus!” The sight of him truly pissed her off. He had caused so much death and ruin. He needed to die.

“And so it shall!” he shouted. He drew energy from the orb which he had allowed to float high above his head, lightning crackling around him. He bent low and the with all of his might lifted the entire temple and the surrounding area from the Earth. The magic of the breach assisted him in hoisting the ground. Evelyn stumbled as the ground below her quaked. Half of her people were left behind, the ground splitting between her and them. Scout Harding tried to catch her balance on the edge, but fell backwards, landing with a thud on her back between Blackwall and Sera. Evelyn was left to hold on as tightly as she could, crouching low so she didn't lose her balance. Dorian, ever faithful at her side, Bull already stomping toward Corypheus. Cole stood still beside Solas who was using his staff for balance. Vivienne had maintained a crouching position on her opposite side. She was glad most of her mages had ended up on the floating temple grounds. When the ground stopped shaking, Evelyn stood to face Corypheus. He growled “You have been most successful in foiling my plans, but let us not forget what you are. A thief. In the wrong place at the wrong time. An interloper. A gnat. We shall prove here, once and for all, which of us is worthy of godhood.”

“You're not proving anything by talking,” Evelyn growled in return, stepping toward him and slamming her staff into the ground to send a shock of concentrated electrical energy directly at him. When it hit, Corypheus staggered and Evelyn glared at him, waiting for him to retaliate. Instead, his dragon crept up over the top of the ruins above him. Evelyn braced herself as it lunged toward her, but from out of nowhere, Mythal's dragon swooped in and slammed into the dragon, knocking it to the side. The two dragon's started a heated battle of teeth, wings, fire and lightning, lighting the dark sky. Evelyn took a moment to hope that Sera had a good view from below.

“You dare!” Corypheus growled as his dragon was sufficiently distracted. “A dragon, how clever of you!” Evelyn attempted to block him out, concentrating on the red glow that began to form around him. He unleashed a spray of energy, catching Bull in his shoulder, grazing his skin. Bull cried out in anger and pain as his flesh was seared as if being eaten by acid. He dodged out of the way, his arm dangling at his side. Vivienne rushed in with her spirit blade drawn, holding back the spray of magic with a thick barrier. She gripped Bull's arm and slipped him a healing potion and closed over his wound with her magic.

All of the others sprung into action. Cole darted past Vivienne's barrier and flicked back and forth, drawing Corypheus' magic and opening up his flank for the other mages. With the Breach so nearby, Solas' skills were downright scary. He had taken the new energy of the world and molded it to his will, practically using the earth against Corypheus. He picked up gigantic boulders and hurled them across the field, putting her small stonefist to shame. Dorian took advantage of a few of the corpses lying about to sick some of his spirit minions on Corypheus, dividing the monster's attention. Evelyn herself slung all the elements that she could muster, drawing on her deep well of reserves. Bull was back in the fight, but his hammer did not swing quite so hard until he called upon his Reaver skills, turning his injury to his advantage. Vivienne smoothly glided back and forth across the battle field, Fade stepping to leave huge trails of ice in her wake, powering her frost armor. Her body was wreathed in a shell of ice that constantly cracked and reformed as she moved, acting as an extra barrier to keep her safe from Corypheus' attacks. Corypheus soon grew bored and flickered out of sight, reappearing above them. They ran as a team up the stairs to regain control of the field. He would not get the advantage of high ground if she could help it. Again, they fell into a pattern, Corypheus taking at least some damage. She could tell because he had stopped talking and taunting her. He was concentrating more on trying to get them off his back than he was actually throwing his own magic at them. Again he flickered away and Evelyn followed up a flight of stairs to a different section of the temple. Meanwhile, over head, the dragons continued to fight. Rolling and biting and clawing in mid air. She and her people caught up to Corypheus after about 60 stairs in what looked like it may have been a great hall or a mezzanine. When they ran out onto the field, he spread his arms wide and then clapped his hands in front of him. The walls of acidic energy mimicked his movement, giving them nowhere to hide. Every mage that stood there threw up a barrier, protecting themselves and their companions. Evelyn could feel the energy licking at her barrier, trying to break it down. She gritted her teeth and drew her own energy inwards to stuff in her staff in a concentrated ball of spirit energy. She unleashed the spell, hurling the bolt at Corypheus. He staggered back his spell falling down around them as she broke his concentration. As soon as the spell dropped, the others sprung back into action. The assault didn't last long as overhead, the dragon fight drew their attention, swooping too low for comfort. They crashed against one of the crumbled walls behind Corypheus and he took the chance to flicker out of sight again. Evelyn made to follow, but Mythal's dragon purposefully smashed into a floating rock above to cascade debris down on top of Corypheus' dragon as it pursued. The rocks hit the other dragon and then bounced down to smash in front of Evelyn and the others. She looked up to see the yellow dragon swooping in and out of the pieces of floating earth as it gained altitude on the other. Then suddenly it switched course, pulling it's wings tight to its body to rocket down towards its foe. They collided in mid air, biting and clawing as they careened downwards. They rolled and dived, the jagged corrupted dragon flipping them at the last minute to slam her dragon into the ground below then land heavily on top and bite into it's neck. Mythal's dragon cried out in pain and Evelyn felt it's death. “No,” she whispered as she realized they had lost, and Corypheus' dragon had landed not far from them.

The dragon stood from the crater that the two had created, dripping dirt and sand from it's body as it shook off the impact. “It killed the other dragon!” Dorian gasped.

“We need to take it down,” Evelyn ordered. “We've bested a dragon before, everyone pull together and keep an eye out for Corypheus!”

Evelyn noticed the other mages all downing lyrium potions and she thanked her new magic that she did not yet feel the dwindling of her mana pool. Before the dragon could fully recuperate, Bull rushed headlong at it, his hammer raised high above his head. He smacked the dragon right in the nose and it snapped at him in retaliation. Dorian's concern was palpable as he cursed in Tevene and began to aid Bull in beating on the dragon with his magic. It was strange to say that the dragon was the easy part. It had no fancy talents that she could tell, dodging it's red lyrium lightning breath was a trifle compared to Corypheus' concentrated spells. Mythal's dragon had done quite a bit of damage to begin with, doing half of their job for them. They managed to take out one of it's legs, throwing it off balance and making Bull and Cole's jobs that much easier. Vivienne managed to take out it's other leg, dropping it to the ground. Evelyn released the blade on her staff and ran up to the exposed neck. She slashed two long deep gashes in it's flesh and then stabbed half her staff through it's neck, piercing all of the way through to the other side. Arterial blood splattered everywhere, spraying them all as the dragon lifted it's head, a roar of defeat echoing out around them, likely reaching the valley below. It's long neck and head dropped with a crash and as Evelyn glanced around at her people, she chuckled as she could almost read the thoughts on both Dorian and Vivienne's faces. Both looked down at their clothing in horror and wished they'd had a parasol. A bright flash of red emanated from the dragon's chest as it died, lifting up to float away, pinpointing Corypheus' exact location above them as his essence returned to it's original owner. He growled in rage at the death of his pet. “Let it end here!” he raged, lifting his hands to call his orb back down to his hands. “Let the skies boil! Let the world be rent asunder!” Evelyn charged ahead, the others hot on her heels. Corypheus needed to die. He was vulnerable. This was their chance. She refused to waste it.

As they reached the apex of the temple where Corypheus awaited them, Evelyn seethed as her hand burned. “The breach is getting bigger!”

“So it is,” Vivienne agreed, looking up for a split second. “Kill him before he destroys the veil.”

“You dare come before me, demon?” Corypheus' attention shot to Cole. “I will bind you, as I have bound so many before!”

Cole growled as a spell fired in his direction. “I am no demon! And you are no god!”

Evelyn's heart fluttered in joy as Cole overcame the binding attempt. “Then die with the others!” Corypheus seethed. They formed a line of mages, spells of all kinds protecting allies and destroying Corypheus. Cole again worked as a distraction, a smile so wide she couldn't help but share it, spread across his face. Evelyn broke free of the line, Fade stepping to get close enough to finish the stumbling and bleeding Corypheus with her staff blade to his gut. Before she could get at him, he unleashed a powerful wave of energy that knocked her off her feet and onto her back, knocking the air from her lungs. She gasped, inhaling a lung full of dust she forced herself to her knees as a barrier flew up around her, the familiar tug of Dorian's magic caressing her skin. Corypheus grabbed for his orb. “Not like this! I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages...” The orb began to fight Corypheus, trying to release itself from his grasp. Evelyn felt the surge of familiar magic pouring from the Anchor. She flexed her hand and the Anchor blazed to life. For once, the power invigorated her, giving her the strength to stand. Corypheus began to pray. “Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!” His arm flung out to his side and Evelyn held up the Anchor. “If you exist... if you ever truly existed, aid me now!”

Evelyn felt the Anchor surge through her and she drew the power inwards, accepting it. The orb flew from Corypheus' grasp as she stole his last bit of power from him as she had stolen everything else from him. She grinned as he fell to his knees in defeat. She lifted the orb to the heavens, unleashing the magic pent up within. The orb burned through her, using her as a battery, sucking at her mana to close the Breach for the final time. As soon as the giant rift was closed, a giant slash of blue raked across the sky like a scar, the orb's magic went silent. Evelyn dropped it to the ground at her feet, the Anchor still glowing brightly. She approached Corypheus as the rocks and debris all began to fall down around them and the temple regained it's gravity, dregs of magic allowing it to fall slower than the rest. As the boulders crashed and shattered around her and her enemy, Evelyn reached out and pulled on the Anchor's power. There were still scattered rifts to close, but right now, she needed to open one. “You wanted into the Fade?” She concentrated hard as she could, her nose bleeding as she forced a rip in the fabric of the veil inside Corypheus' chest. The detonation of the rift tore him in two, and the subsequent closing of the rift, pulled his disintegrating body into the void.

“Let's get out of here!” Dorian shouted, grabbing her arm and dragging her beneath a section of the temple where the falling boulders couldn't smash them. The temple was gaining speed as it fell, leaving her stomach behind. She and her people huddled together and she called on her magic to shield them all, bracing for the crash. Dorian gripped her hand, adding his magic to hers, the others soon following suit. The impact jarred her body, but they survived, thanks to their combined magic. When things settled down, Solas' eyes bugged out of his head and he pushed through them to rush back to where she had dropped the orb. She followed after him, limping with every other step. Her ankle was sprained. “Solas?” she asked finding him kneeling on the ground his back hunched.

“The orb,” he whispered sadly.

She looked around him and saw that the orb had cracked in two, rendering the artifact useless. She was tempted to say good riddance after all of the trouble it had caused, but instead, she sighed. “Are you sure? We could take the pieces, try to...”

Solas set down the piece he had been holding, placing it reverently beside the others. “That would not recover what has been lost.”

He turned his sharp eyes on her as he stood. “There's more, isn't there?” she asked recognizing the look on his face.

“It was not supposed to happen this way,” he said, his voice cracking. Solas had never been one for emotion. His reaction was strange. “No matter what comes, I want you to know you shall always have my respect.”

Before she could inquire further, Cassandra's frightened voice rose over the relative calm of the night. “Inquisitor? Are you alive?”

Evelyn turned to limp her way to the entrance where the previously lifted ground had separated from the earth. The others joined her. She was the last to come down the stairs and she smiled proudly as she looked down on all of her people. “Victorious I see,” Morrigan said with a smile of her own. “What a novel result.”

“And the sky is healed, healthy... whole. There's just that left to remember!” Cole said giddily, looking up at the blue streak across the night sky.

“Looks that way,” Evelyn agreed.

“What do we do now?” Cassandra asked.

Evelyn glanced behind her, noticing that Solas had disappeared. Her heart clenched, but he had been so upset about the orb, she couldn't blame him for wanting to be alone. She sighed, her smile renewing with vigor. It was over. They had won. “We go back to Skyhold. I could use a drink.”

 

There was so much adrenaline coursing through everyone's veins that they never stopped on the way back to Skyhold, just as they hadn't stopped on the way there. There was much laughter and celebrating as the reality of their victory set in among the group. Vivienne tended to Evelyn's ankle, fixing it before they set off. Evelyn felt like she could stay awake for a week as she fidgeted in her saddle. It was difficult not to count the miles as they closed in on Skyhold. Cullen was there, waiting for her.

When they passed through the gates, the entire Inquisition had gathered in the lower courtyard. They were cheered through the crowd, everyone accepting accolades and praises. Evelyn's sights were set on the small landing where she had accepted her role as Inquisitor so many months ago. There, Leliana, Josephine and Cullen awaited her. As soon as their eyes met, she swore she saw Cullen twitch toward her as if he wanted to leap from the ledge and join her below. She understood his need as her own flared to life. Two days ago, neither one of them thought she would be returning alive. She climbed all of the stairs, trying to maintain her composure, shaking hands and smiling at the masses. When she reached the landing, All three of her advisers bowed formally, welcoming their savior home. She was not one to stand on ceremony. She squeaked like a spoiled princess from Orlais and jumped into Cullen's arms. He accepted her without question, hugging her tightly as she breathed in his wonderful scent. When Leliana cleared her throat, she pulled reluctantly from his grasp and with her hand still clutching his, they all turned to rally the crowd.

After a moment, Leliana leaned close to her and said, “A moment, my lady.”

Cullen squeezed her hand, letting go and following Josie and the rest of her inner circle into the main hall. There was already music playing and Evelyn could smell food wafting from inside as she and Leliana climbed the stairs. “My agents have found no trace of Solas. He has simply vanished. If he does not wish to be found, there's likely nothing we can do. But I will keep looking.” Leliana smiled beautifully. Her sweetness and charm often caught Evelyn off guard, but that evening, it seemed to fit perfectly with the atmosphere.

“Why would he just leave? Something must be wrong,” Evelyn worried.

“You said he was upset about the orb,” Leliana offered.

“That can't be the only reason,” she sighed, resisting the urge to hug herself.

Leliana patted her shoulder. “Now that Corypheus has been defeated, we have a moment to stop and celebrate. Afterwards, you will be busy. Every noble in Southern Thedas is clambering to meet you,” Leliana teased.

Evelyn snorted and crossed her arms. “Oh, _now_ they're lining up to meet me.”

Leliana chuckled softly. “Such is the way of things... Previously, you were an upstart... a mage, of all things... leading rebels and heretics. Until Corypheus revealed himself, they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. Once he did, they knew. A magister and a Darkspawn in one creature. The _ultimate_ evil. Now, you are the only power left standing. Enjoy the evening while you can, Inquisitor.”

Leliana left her at the open entry to the great hall. Evelyn spotted Cullen hovering just inside the doorway. She approached him and placed a gentle hand on his arm to draw his attention. “Am I imagining it, or do we have a moment to breathe?” he asked her softly, turning to face her and caressing her cheek.

“We have a moment,” she agreed.

He chuckled. A very happy sound that until then she realized had never been completely genuine. “I think you're right. You brought us here. You are proof that the Inquisition made a difference. That we will continue to do so.”

“That's why we're having this fancy party,” she said, gesturing around the hall where a large amount of people had gathered. “Celebrate, _Commander_... You've earned it.”

He shook his head. “I should be thanking you. You gave me a chance to... to prove myself. In your place, I'm not sure I would have done the same.” he sighed and squeezed her hand again, tipping his head toward the crowd. “I should let you... mingle. I'm sure everyone desires your attention, as much as I might want it for myself.”

There were drinks aplenty and so many tiny cakes that Evelyn could have stuffed herself on dessert alone. Leliana had warned her away from the dark ones topped with gold dust. Apparently Orlesians called it 'the exquisite misery'. Sera and Bull took a chunk of the evening to reenact the dragon battle, yanking down some of the banners and tapestries around the hall to serve as their wings. As she watched, tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, Dorian plopped his seemingly tipsy butt down beside her on the table and leaned his head on her shoulder. She glanced at him as he smiled contentedly, watching Bull pick up Sera and hold her aloft above his head. She nudged him gently. “So, will you be returning to Tevinter, now?”

He sighed, his breath all puffing out his nose. “No, actually, I was thinking of sticking around... for a while.”

“You will?” she asked, unable to brush away the smile from her lips.

“Tevinter lacks the presence of my best and only friend... It'll keep.” he said, his mustache lifting as he grinned. They watched the show for a bit longer and he spoke again. “I was passing through the hall a few minutes ago, and a serving girl saw me and _squealed_. Actually squealed. Dropped her laundry and everything. Such a mess. She was completely breathless... 'you were at the battle with the Evil One, weren't you'?” his approximation of her voice made Evelyn chuckle. “I didn't even get a chance to answer. She hugged me. _Hugged_ me. This is your influence,” he accused, swirling the wine in his glass and them taking a sip.

“Admit it, you're having a ball,” she chuckled, taking the glass from him and sharing his drink. Her own cup sat empty beside her.

He laughed. “I don't trust camaraderie. All these people smiling, buying me drinks... it's unnatural... Mind you, I can't say I hate the notion of being 'the good Tevinter'... 'I suppose you can't all be evil bastards',” Dorian intoned with another approximated voice. “The blacksmith said that, and he _spat_ when we first met. I hope my father hears. He'll shit his small clothes from shock, I swear!”

She giggled, picturing Dorian's father doing just that. “Maker...”

“I know, right,” he said, lifting his head from her shoulder. Bull and Sera took a bow, having finished their reenactment, and Evelyn cheered with the rest of the great hall. Dorian patted her leg and got up to drag Bull aside and mumble something to him that made Bull glance around and herd Dorian from the hall with a loud swat to his backside. Dorian rubbed the cheek, tossing a glare over his shoulder, but continued ahead anyhow.

Evelyn could tell that the party was winding down. Aside from Dorian, no one had really spoken to her in hours. The sky was lightening outside and she set the glass she'd taken from Dorian beside her own empty one. She stood and wobbled toward the door by her throne that led up to her quarters. “You managed to slip away,” Cullen said, drawing her attention back the way she had come. He approached her with a grin. “I thought I might claim more of your attention after all.”

She grinned and backed away deviously, “Is there something on your mind?”

“Everything,” he confirmed, with one of his lopsided grins that turned her insides to jelly. She gripped the handle on the door behind her and turned it to back through the door, her eyes roving up and down his body as he followed after her, closing the door and locking it behind him. They walked hand in hand up the long staircase up to her room. “Battle's over, there will be a new Divine... yet I don't care about anything other than you being alive,” he said drawing her into his arms as they made it to the center of her room.

“Cullen...” she said with a smirk, gripping his chin between her fingers, then teasingly pushing him away so she could saunter out onto her balcony.

“I don't know what happens after this,” he admitted, following her into the slowly brightening sky outside.

“Neither do I,” she shrugged as he came up behind her, his hands landing on her shoulders and then sliding slowly down her arms and snaking around her waist. His body pressed against her back, he sighed in her ear, the smile evident in the shape of his lips as he kissed her neck then rested his chin on her shoulder. The sun came up over the mountains as they watched, a new day dawning to mark the rest of their lives. She felt safe, secure and loved, like she had never felt before, drawing strength from the man at her back. She turned in his arms, pressing her body against his. “Everything, huh?” she teased.

“Maker, yes,” he said with a chuckle.

She hopped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him. He caught her easily and carried her back inside. The sun was shining in the open doors now and it glinted off his armor as he deposited her on the bed. She crawled backwards as he began the task of removing the difficult pieces of his armor as she watched, her bottom lip in her teeth. He dropped the armor with a clatter and approached the bed. She sat up and pulled him down to join her. He chuckled, twisting so his weight didn't all fall on her, and she took the opportunity to climb on top of him.

She leaned down to kiss him, but he gripped her arms and said, “I don't think so.” He flipped her back onto her back and pinned her down, drawing an excited moan from her as his renegade piece of hair sprung free to fall over his brow. He began to undress her, slowly revealing the healing bruises she'd earned in her battle with Corypheus and his dragon.

His concern painted itself across his features and his hands that held her loosened their grip. She pulled her left hand free and lifted his chin to meet his amber eyes with her stormy gray ones. “Hey, I'm fine. You should see the other guy.”

He smiled, “Bull tells me they are picking up what's left of Corypheus with, and I quote, a dust pan and a pastry scraper.”

She snorted, “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

He reached down and traced over the green bruise on her collar bone, his thumb lightly caressing. “As soon as that Breach disappeared, Josie started planning this damned party. Even before we got your reports. Maker, I'd never been so scared in my life. We had no idea what had happened or if anyone had survived.”

“By some miracle, here we all are,” she said with a grin.

“And here you are,” he agreed, leaning in to kiss her passionately. She could taste his relief, her slightly intoxicated mind giggling as she thought that the Orlesians should make a cake that tasted like it. They already had ham that tasted of despair. She shoved the thoughts from her mind and fell into him. Nothing else mattered besides his touch.

And touch her he did. Everywhere. Ever mindful of her bruises, but no less passionate. She felt her magic flare, arching between them wherever they touched. They moved together until they were spent and still they could not stop touching. She had her leg slung over him, and his arm held her against him, fingers kneading her skin. She playfully sparked tiny arcs of lightning over his chest while his opposite arm caressed up and down her thigh, cupping and squeezing her rear before sliding back down each time. “So what happens next?” she asked softly, her own voice reverberating inside her head because her ear was resting in his chest.

His deep groan and subsequent chuckle forced her close to him so she could revel in the vibration in his chest. “I don't even want to think about anything outside this room.”

She smiled and planted a small kiss on his side. “Agreed. The Inquisition deserves a day off... And so do you.”

“A whole day?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Mock me again and I'll make it a week,” she threatened. “No work, no reports, no armor...” She walked her fingers up his chest and grinned. “No stress...”

“Maker forbid,” he said jovially. “But a day off does sound... promising.”

“Mmm... good,” she said with a smile, the three days she'd gone without sleep catching up with her finally. She nuzzled her cheek into his chest, wrapping her arm tighter around his waist. His hand that was massaging her arm moved to play in her hair. His fingers on her scalp was soothing and his steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep.

 


	16. Bad Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years following Corypheus' death, the Inquisition is threatened again and Evelyn has more than her own life to worry about as the Anchor becomes unstable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Interest of wrapping everything up, I have made the events of 'Trespasser' one LONG chapter. Enjoy my embellishments :-)

The Inquisition spent two whole years building itself up and helping to return Thedas to some semblance of normalcy. Now that most of the stray rifts were closed, they were beginning to look like an army without a purpose. Shortly after Corypheus' death, the Chantry had named Leliana divine, giving her the title of Divine Victoria. In less than a year, she turned the Chantry on it's ear. She disbanded the Circle of Magi, stating that all mages deserved the chance at freedom. Vivienne took a stand, taking control of what was left of her loyalists and devising her own Circle to, 'keep the madness in check'. Fiona took the opportunity to start her own institution. The College of Enchanters. It was a place where mage children could go and learn their magic without the threat of imprisonment. The college worked, for the most part. The templars remained, stemming from the few who were left that Cullen commanded via the Inquisition, but they were all decent men and women who did not hold the Brand over every mage as a threat. He quickly handed the Order over to a young recruit named Barris who had been one of the defectors from Therinfal. Evelyn recognized him as the templar from Val Royeaux that had questioned the Lord Seeker. Cassandra declared the use of Lyrium among the templars optional, and the Order grew.

Many of her inner circle slowly left to go about their own lives. She heard nothing of Solas, allowing Leliana's people to stop looking after six months. He was simply gone. Dorian hung around the longest, but even he ran out of excuses and returned to Tevinter. He wrote to her constantly, but she missed him terribly. Blackwall survived the joining, taking his place among the Wardens under his own name. Warden Rainier. Varric wrote to her often from Kirkwall as he attempted to put the city back together in the wake of Anders, Hawke and the Mage rebellion. Sera would stop in from time to time as she wreaked havoc all over the south, each time, baking her awful cookies and spending hours with Evelyn on the little roof outside her window. Bull and his Chargers moved on, becoming the legit mercenary group that they had been before the Inquisition. Cole became an integral part of the Inquisition, working closely with Charter, the elven woman that Leliana had put in charge of Caer Bronach in Crestwood. According to Charter, Cole was exceptional when faced with rescue missions and she kept him quite busy. Cassandra stayed on at Skyhold, making it her purpose to locate and bring the missing Seekers back into the fold so she could mold the order into something worthy of continuing. Her research into reversing the Rite of Tranquility was ongoing, producing none too pleasant results. Many of the subjects went mad shortly after their connection to the Fade was restored.

Evelyn herself remained as Inquisitor, traveling a lot and helping restore order as best she could. The times she was home were filled with a peace she had never known. Skyhold was home, the Inquisition, family. She convinced Cullen twice to visit his family. The first time they had shown up in South Reach, Cullen's sister Mia, had gasped, her hand over her chest before her face twisted into a fury that only siblings could bring out in you. She'd went after Cullen with her rug beater, chasing the Commander of the Inquisition around her yard as if they were children, scolding him for the years that they had missed out on. Evelyn had cackled with glee, drawing Mia's attention from Cullen. The woman bore down on her, her wavy blonde hair and amber eyes so much like Cullen's that Evelyn cringed under the scrutiny, remembering back to when she had first met him and the walls she had to break through to earn his trust. Cullen sheepishly skirted his sister's reach to stand at Evelyn's side and introduce her, his hand slipping into hers and locking their fingers. When Mia saw the affectionate gesture, her own expression softened and she had been quick to accept Evelyn. Evelyn had to admit that she actually liked the woman.

Leliana had managed to keep the southern countries off the Inquisition's case, but after two years of building their forces and idling in Skyhold, she could delay the inevitable no longer. The Exalted Council had been called to decide the fate of the Inquisition. This was why Evelyn found herself riding at the head of a parade of Inquisition representatives into the Winter Palace, being watched from all sides by representatives from the Southern nations. She felt small under the scrutiny, but she held her back straight and rigid earning herself a small amount of regality. She swallowed her nerves, wondering if her nausea was a by product of her fear for the Inquisition, or the other tiny secret she held within herself. Six months ago, she had topped taking her herbal suppressants, and she had recently discovered that she and Cullen were to be parents. They had discussed the future before, but nothing ever had been set in motion. They were always so busy, so she had decided to take the plunge on her own, electing to deal with it when the time came, like most things they did. She had been burning to tell him, but she had not been able to find the right time. Once the Council was finished, and things settled down, their futures would be more clearly laid out before them. For now, her secret was her own.

Cullen grumbled in his saddle behind her, bringing a short smile to her face. “Another parade, another bloody negotiation...”

“Smiles, everyone,” Josie reminded them. “We must be careful how we present ourselves.”

“Why did Divine Victoria call the Exalted Council? She's kept Orlais from bothering us for the last two years,” Cullen murmured.

“At increasing political cost, yes,” Josie sighed. Evelyn cocked her ears to pay attention to the Ambassador. She knew every in and out of the situation, and Evelyn needed to have that information if she was going to save the Inquisition. “She has done all she can, but the Exalted Council had become necessary. Orlais would control us. And based on their _many_ marriage proposals, they have specific plans for you.” Evelyn glanced behind her to snicker at Cullen's scowl as he remembered back to their first trip to the Winter Palace and the gaggle of Orlesians that had dogged his heels the entire evening. Josie lifted her hand and waved her fingers up at the Ferelden representatives to their right. “Our real concern is Ferelden. They would see us disbanded entirely.”

Evelyn returned her attention to simply making it inside the gates without making a spectacle, the horse beneath her fidgeting at her own discomfort. She hopped from the horse after a stable hand took her reins just inside the lower courtyard garden. “I'm going to get a look at the room where we'll be cooped up for the next... Maker knows how long...” she said, excusing herself to enter the Palace.

The inside was deserted, a tall dais built up along the back wall where Leliana and the top representatives from both countries would sit to look down upon Evelyn and Josie at their tiny table. Banners hung along the wall, heraldries from each country represented. She was gladdened to see that the largest banner in the middle was that of the flaming eye pierced by a sword that represented the Inquisition. It felt more like a courtroom than a council chamber. Evelyn flinched at the thought. Saving the Inquisition was going to be quite the task. As she looked around, her palm began to twitch and when she lifted it to study the cause, her mark began to glow. She frowned, wondering at the strange timing. A voice behind her drew her attention and she closed her fist quickly around the stinging mark. She had controlled the Anchor for a long time now, having mastered the magic. What was going on? There was no time to ponder as Mother Giselle approached with a smile. Evelyn returned the expression. “How have you been, Mother Giselle?” she asked kindly in response to the Mother's soft words.

“I spent the last summer in Emprise Du Lion, distributing food sent from the Exalted Plains. The Dales are finally recovering,” she said in her familiar thick accent.

Evelyn chuckled. “Since Corypheus fell, I think you've spent more time traveling than I have.”

Mother Giselle conceded with a nod. “It keeps me out of trouble, Your Worship. The Inquisition forces were of great help tending the sick. The Orlesian soldiers at Suledin Keep... somewhat less so.” She quickly changed the subject. “Divine Victoria asked me to greet you on her behalf. She is currently attending to the Ferelden Ambassador's concerns.”

Evelyn smirked. “You can probably just call her Leliana in private conversation.”

“ _You_ can Inquisitor,” Mother Giselle corrected. “I prefer to use her Divine name. Our last Divine once joked about why I insisted upon calling her Justinia. She called it my way of reassuring her that I had not _completely_ forgotten who was in charge.”

“How do you think Divine Victoria has done these last two years?” Evelyn asked curiously. She only received word from Leliana, not from those around her. Leliana had a way of making everything sound like peaches and cream, but her revisions had caused quite a fuss.

“Its hardly for me to say, Inquisitor,” Mother Giselle said evasively.

Evelyn snorted and crossed her arms. “With respect, Mother Giselle, that's never stopped you before.”

Giselle sighed. “Victoria has proven adept at winning allies with both her intelligence and her faith. It is a blessing in these trying times. We are lucky to have her.” That was a rehearsed statement if Evelyn had ever heard one.

“I'll speak to Divine Victoria,” Evelyn said, hoping to get out of the room and find Leliana. She hadn't seen her former spymaster in ages.

“I believe she would appreciate that, Your Worship,” Mother Giselle said with a nod. “The Divine sees the good that you can do, and have done. Duke Cyril will wish to greet you on behalf of Orlais. I believe he is currently speaking with the Tevinter Ambassador. Many of your friends have returned as well. I hope you have a chance to speak with them before the Exalted Council begins.”

Evelyn balked. “The Imperium sent an Ambassador?”

Mother Giselle smirked deviously. “Yes, Your Worship. Dorian Pavus has taken the chance to return from Tevinter. It will be good to see him again. I owe him my apology. I allowed my distrust of Tevinter to cloud my judgment. He took a great risk coming to help us, and deserved better treatment.”

On top of her excitement to see Dorian, she chuckled. “You're going to apologize? To Dorian?”

Mother Giselle scowled at Evelyn's amusement. “I have little patience for those who cannot admit they were wrong, Your Worship. Myself included... I will have to make my apology somewhere public. He will want an audience for his reaction.”

Mother Giselle certainly knew Dorian well. Evelyn chuckled again, shaking her head. She was glad to hear that some of her other friends had returned as well. Perhaps she wasn't going to be as alone as she thought. “Thank you, Mother Giselle.”

“Your Worship, a final question, if I may. This Exalted Council... Ferelden would have the Inquisition disband. Orlais sees its power as another feather in a chevalier's helmet. What do _you_ wish to do with the Inquisition?”

Evelyn's palm absently slid over her abdomen and she quickly removed it, biting her lip before Mother Giselle noticed. What _did_ she want? “The Inquisition still has work to do. We can't let someone's fear push us into disbanding,” she said. Even if she handed the reins over in the near future, the Inquisition had done so much good. It needed to continue.

“Then I wish you luck in the negotiations to come. Maker watch over you, Inquisitor. I will not keep you any longer.” Mother Giselle said before allowing Evelyn to leave and head back out into the sunshine.

Spring was upon the Winter Palace. The flowers in the gardens all bloomed, making Evelyn's nose twitch. The overpowering scent of their perfume nearly made her gag as she took in a deep breath of freedom before they would be sequestered. She set off through the courtyard to investigate which of her friends had returned. On one of the upper balconies, she ran into Josephine the woman was practically frantic as she scribbled on her trusty clipboard. “It's been quite a day so far, has it not? I've been speaking with representatives from everywhere.” They had been there maybe ten minutes. Josie was going to Ambassador herself into an early grave if she continued.

“Have they given you trouble?” Evelyn asked with curiosity.

“Not at all,” Josie said with a frown. “It is quite alarming. It means they are saving themselves up for later. Would you walk with me? I should like to take some air before the Exalted Council becomes inescapable...” Josie asked. Evelyn nodded. She had been planning the same thing after all. The Council was not supposed to be starting until the next morning anyway. They had time. She followed the nervous woman down into the courtyard gardens and Josie worried the entire way. “The Palace has been most accommodating... we are, after all, here at their insistence... But the ministers may...” Josie clapped her lips shut and held up a hand. “No! No more talk of the Council. This meeting was to spend time with you in a more relaxed fashion...”

“Then why can I still see those wheels turning in your head?” Evelyn teased, pointing at Josie's forehead.

Josephine sighed, gently shooing Evelyn's finger. “Work carries a certain momentum. The truth is, there is a small entertainment happening tonight. To which I _may_ be able to find a pair of invitations...” she said with a leading smile.

“You'd like me to go with you?” Evelyn asked.

“Very much so! In all the years you've worked with Orlais, you've had so little time to enjoy it's culture,” Josephine pointed out truthfully.

“I do wish you'd warned me the Game would take more work _after_ Halamshiral,” Evelyn agreed with a grin.

Josephine laughed sweetly. “It's strange, those were somehow simpler times. With all that's been happening, I promised myself a single evening out. I'd very much like to go with a friend.”

“Why not?” Evelyn shrugged. “Josephine, I put myself in your capable hands.”

“Splendid!” Josephine hugged her tightly with a giggle. “I will arrange things at once. The past years have been so busy. We have earned at least a few moments of rest.” She patted Evelyn's hands and then rushed off to make her preparations.

Evelyn glanced around at her sudden solitary circumstance. Around the fountain she was standing by, she spotted a familiar dirty blonde half up hairstyle and grinned. She made her way around the fountain and saw Varric arguing in an annoyed tone with a red headed man who looked just as irritated with Varric. Varric spotted her and his expression completely changed as he ignored the man and pushed past him with his arms held out to the sides. “Inquisitor! Andraste's ass am I ever glad to see you!”

She bent to accept his hug. “And the Inquisitor comes to the rescue once again,” she joked as the man scowled and crossed his arms.

“Is that what you call it?” he sneered.

Varric pursed his lips. “This is Bran Cavin. Until recently, he was the Viscount...”

“Provisional Viscount,” the man corrected.

“...of Kirkwall,” Varric sighed.

 _Until recently?_ “And what are you doing now?” Evelyn asked conversationally.

“I have resumed my post as Senechal now that Master Tethras has been elected Viscount,” Bran announced.

Varric cringed as she looked at him with wide eyes. “You're the Viscount of Kirkwall now?”

Bran sniffed. “Well, it seems the two of you have a great deal to discuss. Why don't I just leave you to it?”

He walked a short distance away and Varric grunted, crossing his arms. “So... It turns out you fund enough reconstruction efforts in a city-state, the nobles give you the worst job they can think of.” He shrugged.

Evelyn snickered. “I might need to sit down... You're the ruler of Kirkwall, now? All of it?”

Varric waved a hand with nonchalance. “That's not that big a deal. I have a really pointy crown that I wouldn't be caught dead wearing, but that's it. They voted me in because I got the harbor and businesses up and running again. They want shit fixed, and I can do that... Anyway, I was hoping I'd catch you before the summit got underway. I got you a sort of present.” He pulled a scroll from the inside of his jacket and handed it to her. “It's official recognition of your title and holdings in Kirkwall. Congratulations! You're a Comtesse now.”

The senechal sputtered and paced back to them. “You can't actually do that without...”

“Too late!” Varric interrupted. “Already did it!” He went back to ignoring the senechal. “You should stop by Hightown some time to see your estate. It's pretty nice! For Kirkwall, anyway...”

“Proper disposition of empty estates is supposed to...” the senechal interrupted again.

“You were leaving us to talk, remember?” Varric said, glaring.

The man sighed and walked away, scratching his head. “This is possibly too much, Varric. I don't know what to say,” Evelyn blurted, clutching the documents.

He held up his hands. “It's nothing... practically nothing. Don't mention it.” an excited look came over his face then. “Oh, that reminds me!” he pulled an over-sized key from his jacket as well. “It's the key to the city.”

Evelyn snorted, as she took the key, wondering if he was doing all of this to ruffle the senechal's feathers. If so, it was working. “You can't give that away without approval from the council and a special ceremony! It...”

“It's just symbolic anyway,” Varric said with a shrug.

“It controls one of the giant chain nets in the harbor!” Bran hissed angrily.

Varric's face lit up. “Really? That... is so much better than I thought.”

“This operates those giant chains?” Evelyn gasped. She felt the devious smile creep over her face. “Can I try it?”

“No!” the senechal gasped.

Varric sighed. “I don't know how this council thing is going to end for the Inquisition. But whatever gets decided, you've got a place lined up in Kirkwall if you want it. Also... control of the harbor... I guess.” he shrugged. “Anyway, you should meet with the diplomats. We'll get in a game of Wicked Grace before I go back, though, right?”

“I wouldn't miss it,” she agreed with a smile.

“Don't bet any public buildings this time,” Bran warned as he and Varric walked off.

Evelyn made her way around the grounds, discovering a small tavern where Bull, Sera and Cole had congregated. It was like nothing had changed. She did a bit of catching up with each of them, learning that it was Bull's birthday and Cole had found himself a girlfriend in the young bard, Maryden, who had written a ton of songs about the Inquisition in her time at Herald's Rest at Skyhold. It made Evelyn smile when Maryden commented, “The world has ample pain, Inquisitor. The kindness found in Cole is rare indeed.”

Thom she found throwing knives at a dummy in a far off corner. He explained his work as a real Warden with a prideful smile. Evelyn knew her decision had been the right one. Atonement looked good on Blackwall.

As she left the area with the tavern, she expected to find the ambassadors, as well as Leliana huddled in the swankier side of the grounds. What she did not expect was Cullen kneeling in front of a Mabari Hound. “You there! You're to dodge, not catch! If that ball were a fireball, you'd be dead.”

She smiled, crossing her arms under her chest as she watched him. The man she loved who had come so far in the years she had known him. He rarely even flinched when he was exposed to Lyrium anymore. The hound barked playfully, nudging its nose into his shoulder. The dog was as tall as he was when he was crouching, a giant dark gray beast. Cullen noticed her as she approached quietly and his expression turned sheepish. “You... found a dog?” she asked glancing around for the hound's owner, not truly expecting to find one.

“They don't breed Mabari in Orlais,” he explained, his voice quiet as he began to scratch the dog's ears. “The merchant said he was abandoned. Perhaps his owner's tired of the novelty?”

She had no room to object. She was already expanding their little unofficial family. What harm would there be in a dog, too? “Tire of you?” she asked, fake pouting as she moved to pet the dog. “With that positive attitude and fetching ability?” The dog barked happily at her attention.

Cullen snorted. “He's not supposed to fetch it...”

“I don't think you understand how this works,” she teased and the dog bumped into her legs in an effort to gain more head scratches.

“Another Ferelden trapped at the Winter Palace,” Cullen sighed. “I couldn't leave him to that fate. Besides... I think he likes me.” The dog woofed and bounded back over to Cullen to drop down and roll onto his back for belly rubs.

“I never expected _you_ to make friends at a political council... How times have changed,” she teased with a wide grin. Seeing him so content made her heart flutter. Happiness was where Cullen shone brightest, as much as he would try and make everyone believe it was in the training ring.

He chuckled sweetly. “So they have...” His smile Faded and he glanced down at the happily rolling hound. He sighed. “The Inquisition will change after this. I'm not yet sure what that will mean. Still, I've found certainty in my life now. The council won't change that.” He stopped scratching the dog and they both stood. She nearly blurted their secret to him then and there, but before she could do so, his lopsided grin lifted his lips and he caught her off guard as the sun made a beautiful halo around his head and shoulders. As she sucked in a breath, he said sortly. “Marry me.”

The dog barked and her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes widened as her heart came back to life and began racing. “What?” she asked dumbly, wondering if she had heard right in her stupor.

Cullen's right hand shot up to his neck in his old nervous habit and he looked adorable as he stuttered. “I mean, will you...” he sighed. “I had a plan, and... and there wasn't a dog. But you were... It doesn't matter.” He paused and she managed to bring her weak knees back to life so she could approach him. “I've thought of little else, and I don't need a plan. Only to know if you would...”

She grinned uncontrollably. “I would... Cullen, I will!” she agreed excitedly, her hands trembling in excitement.

“You will,” he said with a relieved sigh.

They were careful not to make a scene in the public garden, although the dog barked wildly and bounded around them, picking up on their excitement. “People will notice the Inquisitor marrying her Commander in the middle of the Exalted Council,” Evelyn pointed out.

“It won't go over well, but we know a few people who can keep things... secret,” he said, his own smile matching hers.

About an hour later, she had found a dress and they were tucked away in a small, private corner of the gardens with Mother Giselle presiding. They stood facing each other. Cullen picked up her hands and held them tightly. “Just now... everything feels like it was worth fighting for,” he whispered.

She couldn't help her laughter. “Always so serious. Just...” she lifted her marked hand to tip his eyes to hers. “focus here.”

“This is...” he seemed at a loss for words as he looked her over in the long white dress. She remembered back to when Vivienne had been trying to get her into a similar ensemble that last time they were to go to the Winter Palace. So much had happened since then, but the look in his eyes was the same.

Mother Giselle cleared her throat with a grin. “This is the part where _you_ make a promise.”

“Oh, right,” Cullen said and then cleared his throat and returned his attention to Evelyn's face. “I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days.”

Evelyn repeated the vow and Mother Giselle pronounced her an official Rutherford. Cullen pulled her close and they shared a loving kiss as Mother Giselle politely left them alone. “I love you,” Evelyn said, her forehead pressed to his.

“And I you...” Then he sighed. “And now, you need to change and go about your duty or all of this sneaking will have been for naught.” He grinned mischievously. “I'll see you tonight?”

She nodded. “As soon as I'm finished with Josie and whatever 'small entertainment' she has in mind.”

“Until then,” he agreed and left her breathless with one last kiss.

Back in the open courtyard, she straightened her bright red dress uniform and shakily proceeded to hunt down the people who she should have been tending to instead of her rowdy inner circle. In her quest to find the Orlesian ambassador, she found not only him, but Dorian. Her friend was scowling at the ambassador as the man tried to win his favor. “Orlais is on your side, Lord Pavus. The Inquisition's support is not a thing to lose lightly.”

“Which is why the Orlesian court is circling it with a net and collar?” He snipped, his elegantly armored arms crossing over his chest. Maker, she had missed his voice. Dorian looked over the man and spotted her approaching. He uncrossed his arms and moved past the ambassador. “But you'll have to excuse me! I see an old friend I must greet. His eyes lifted to shimmer at her as he held out his arms. “Evelyn, darling! How long has it been? Don't actually tell me, I despise feeling old...” He gripped her up in a tight hug and she melted into him. “It's good to see you, my friend.”

“Thrilled to be at the exalted council, _Lord_ Pavus?” she asked, backing up to hold him at arms length, her fingers clutching his elbows.

“Oh, riveted,” he said sarcastically as he looked her over. “Orlais wants the Inquisition tamed, Ferelden wants it gone, the Chantry meddles, and Tevinter sends but one ambassador. That's me, by the way. A 'reward for my interest in the South'. Thankfully 'Ambassador Pavus' is a token appointment. Call on me as you like.” He winked and gently kissed her cheek before squeezing her hands and leaving her to the Orlesian Ambassador.

The Ambassador pounced, his shining gold mask blinding her as the sun reflected off it. “Inquisitor. Duke Cyril Montfort, member of the Council of Heralds and lord of Chateau Haine. I have long followed your work. It is extraordinary.”

She fought the urge to snort with derision. “Is that sentiment shared by the rest of the court?”

The Duke laughed merrily. “Of course! Orlais wishes only to offer respectful guidance to the Inquisition.”

“Does Your Grace feel the Inquisition should continue to rule itself?” she asked sarcastically.

“ _I_ would rather see the Inquisition join us freely than be carved into pieces for the chessboard,” he said snobbishly. _Chess, Cullen, husband._ Evelyn smiled and then quickly wiped the expression away, taking to spinning the thin silver band around her finger thoughtfully. “I have not forgotten Justinia's death. I had friends who perished a the Temple of Sacred Ashes. More than the good you've done, it is the good we may do together I don't wish to lose. Whatever happens, Inquisitor, _I_ wish you well.”

There was a lot of 'I' being thrown around by the Duke. Evelyn nodded at his opinion and then deigned to ignore his self serving. When he walked away, she glanced across the balcony and saw on the opposite side, Leliana in her obscenely dreary Divine's robes and silly hat. She moved to approach and noticed she was speaking with the Ferelden Ambassador Arl Teagan. Evelyn stepped up politely, her hands clasped behind her back where she continued to fiddle with her ring. It would take a lot of getting used to. She was never one for rings after learning she was a mage. The intricate movements of her fingers made for difficulty wearing jewelry, but for Cullen, she made the exception. One silver band was not going to make a difference. She often wondered how Dorian did it with the shiny baubles that he wore on mostly all of his fingers. “Divine Victoria, am I interrupting?”

Leliana turned a bright smile on Evelyn, her eyes flicking curiously over her person. Evelyn was suddenly glad her hands were behind her back. Leliana would have spotted the ring in seconds. It was best that not happen in front of the Arl. “Of course not, Inquisitor. I was catching up with Redcliffe's Arl. He is here to represent Ferelden in the Summit.”

“Inquisitor. Good to meet you,” the Arl said with a short tip of his head coupled with a scowl that he quickly tried to hide. She could tell he used to be a handsome man, but the years had not been kind to him. His face was weathered and dry, making her think that he had seen a lot in his time.

“How are things in Redcliffe, my lord?” Evelyn asked, her own bow equally short.

“Blessedly quiet. The mayor conveys his greetings. Redcliffe remembers it's savior,” he said.

Evelyn nodded. “I had hoped to steal a moment of the Divine's time...” she said, glancing back at Leliana.

“Very well. We'll continue this later, Your Perfection,” Teagan bowed low to Leliana and left them alone.

Leliana smiled widely and put both hands on Evelyn's shoulders. She pulled her inwards to kiss both her cheeks in a traditional Orlesian greeting between old friends. After looking her over again, Leliana sighed. “Many fear the Inquisition's power, but I will do all I can to allay their fears.”

Evelyn snorted, crossing her arms. She regretted it immediately when Leliana's eyes flicked to her hands and a devious grin crossed her features. Evelyn attempted to pretend she hadn't noticed. “When world powers want to 'discuss plans for the future', I get nervous.”

“Good. Someone should keep you on your toes. We don't want you to get bored, Inquisitor,” Leliana said with a smirk. “I have much to do, but let me say this, I may no longer be your spymaster, but I am always here if you require.” Evelyn bowed to Leliana with a smile and the former spymaster winked at her slyly as she walked away.

The Arl jumped at the opportunity as soon as she was alone. “I'm glad you've finally arrived, Inquisitor. The crown's anxious for news.”

“And your thoughts on Ferelden's position?” Evelyn asked, already knowing the answer from the glare he had fixated on her.

“The Breach is long gone, yet Skyhold's army remains. Ferelden can't continue to ignore soldiers on it's borders,” he grumbled, predictably.

Evelyn took in a deep breath. “The Inquisition _has_ grown. I can see how it's presence might cause concern.”

“Then you understand why we must demand a reduction of your military forces. A power without allegiance to either Ferelden or Orlais? Even I see neither of our countries can let it rest...” Evelyn felt her own scowl forming and the Arl must have noticed it. “I won't keep you longer. We'll have words enough when the Exalted Council begins.”

There was not even a bow before he walked off, not that she felt she deserved it. But she had grown accustomed to it happening everywhere she went. She trudged off the balcony and headed back toward the tavern area. She may not be able to drink, but the company was certainly more lively. She never made it that far when just outside the garden spa, she spotted a group of her friends gathered. She approached to see what all the fuss was about. Sera sat on a cushioned bench, a cup in her hands. Varric was standing in the middle of the others, his glass slightly raised. Cole stood to the rear staring quizzically into his own cup Bull was passed out near Sera's bench and Dorian stood looking rather put out near the bench opposite Sera's.

“As the most eloquent dwarf you know, Sparkles...” Varric said loudly.

Sera interrupted, raising her cup and slurring, “Speech! Speech! Way too much speech...” then she downed her drink, sneering.

“Varric, there's really no need...” Dorian said hastily as he saw her approaching.

“What's going on?” Evelyn asked with a smirk as she held up a hand and shook her head when Sera offered her a cup.

“Inquisitor! You're just in time!” Varric exclaimed, then he returned his attention to Dorian. “Sparkles. The Imperium doesn't deserve you. Or want you. It may even kill you, but _we'll_ miss you... If it counts.” Evelyn glanced in shock at Dorian who apologized with his eyes before turning a scowl in Varric and bristling. “Aaaaand you didn't know. Okay folks, time to take the party elsewhere.” The others left without a word, glancing awkwardly between Dorian and Evelyn. Varric made to leave then noticed Bull was still passed out by the bench, muttering and snoring. At a loss, he waved his hand “Err, leave him.”

When Varric disappeared from the courtyard, Dorian sighed, setting his cup on the short table between the benches and moved away from her, his back to her as he shuffled his feet. Was he truly leaving again? He had just gotten back.”It's... true,” he said with a sigh as she approached. “When the Exalted Council has ended, I'm going back to Tevinter...” he turned on her, his eyes glistening. “For good this time.”

“You know I'll miss you,” she said breathing in a ragged breath and trying not to cry. What a perfect time for him to play with her emotions.

“Naturally,” he sniffed, brushing his own cheeks. Her lip quivered and she bit back her sob, as he continued. “My father is dead. Assassinated, I believe. I received notice this morning. A perversely cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium... We only met a few times while I was home. He didn't say anything about keeping me as his heir. This 'ambassadorship'... his doing, I'm told. He must have wanted me away when the trouble began. I _have_ to go back.”

Evelyn didn't know what to say as a couple of tears dripped down her cheeks. In her state, it was impossible to stem the tide. “I know it was complicated, but... I'm sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, brushing her tears away before hugging her gently. “It still doesn't feel real.”

She comforted him with her arms for a minute before pulling away and drawing in a breath. “So, you'll truly be a Magister?”

He snorted and crossed his arms again. “Oh, yes. I can't wait to degrade the Magisterium with my presence! A new outfit is required.”

“And then what?” she asked with a short chuckle.

He shrugged. “I find my father's killers and kill them back. Then I find those giving Tevinter a bad name and kill them. They're most likely the same people, so that should make the job easier.”

“You'll need help. I could join you...” she said without thinking. Him against Tevinter all alone terrified her.

He shook his head and smiled grimly. “Not this time, my friend... I won't be entirely without support. Maevaris has gathered other Magisters who feel as we do.” She remembered him mentioning Maevaris on occasion. She was apparently a very powerful mage and a good friend, in spite of his insistence that Evelyn was his only friend. “We'll be an actual faction in the Magisterium. I'll teach them manners, take them shopping, It'll be fun!”

“You don't have to go back, Dorian. You put it behind you, you still could,” she pleaded one last time, grabbing hold of his hands.

He clucked his tongue. “Give up a golden opportunity for martyrdom? Perish the thought!” She felt the color drain from her face at his joke. It must have been visible because he gripped her hands tighter and moved to sit her on one of the benches and he joined her, their knees touching. “Are you quite all right, Ev?”

She nodded, breathing deeply. “It's okay... yeah... just...” she pinched the bridge of her nose with her left hand. “A little emotional.”

He huffed. “Emotional? Over little old me?”

She snorted, brushing the dregs of her tears away as his hand caught hers and he studied her ring with a fascinated smirk. “Hardly,” she grunted, pulling her hand away.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked devilishly. “Did our dear Commander finally pop the question?”

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed, flapping her hand at him.

“Well, should I be offended? Why was I not informed immediately?” he gasped, pulling her into a hug. “I would have made a lovely maid of honor.”

She laughed out loud. “Well, technically, you're the first to know, unless you count Leliana and Mother Giselle. It just happened about an hour ago.”

“Sweet Maker, right under everybody's noses!” he said with a chuckle.”I knew I loved you for a reason.” She bit her lip and looked up at him through her lashes. “Oh, there's more. I know that look.”

She took his hands. “You have to swear you won't tell a soul. _Nobody_ ,” she emphasized, her eyes flicking to Bull.

He waved his hand in the snoring Qunari's direction. “Not a soul,” he promised. “Now spill. I must know.”

She pulled him in close and whispered in his ear. “I'm pregnant.”

He jerked away, his eyes wide. “I'm sorry, did I just hear you correctly?” the grin spreading across his face was infectious.

“Not a soul, Dorian Pavus! Cullen doesn't even know, yet,” she chided.

“Well, why ever not?” he asked, a frown pulling his brows together.

“I've just not found the right time,” she said with a sigh. “After all of this Exalted Council business is over will be better.”

“Well, now you need to take Vivienne up on her offer,” Dorian said, his head jerking toward the spa.

“Offer?” she asked with a frown of her own. “Vivienne is here?”

“She was looking for you a few minutes ago,” he confirmed. “Something about an appointment. Naturally she was not very forthcoming to me.”

“Of course,” Evelyn said, her eyes rolling.

Dorian pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “Congratulations... now, go. I won't keep you. We can talk later.”

She stood up, feeling relieved that at least someone knew. The weight of the secret didn't feel so heavy. She found Vivienne standing amidst the many fountains in the bathhouse and fanning herself with a paper fan. “Darling, you made it! Excellent! I scheduled this appointment ages ago and they do appreciate punctuality.”

 _Hello to you too, Vivienne._ “Appointment?” Evelyn asked, wrinkling her nose at all the offensively strong perfume scents inside the spa.

“With the Imperial Garden Spa, of course!” Vivienne said, draping herself across an unnaturally wide couch and indicating that Evelyn be seated across from her. “You work so hard, my dear! I wanted to treat you.”

“Well... that's very... generous?” Evelyn said, sitting awkwardly on the large couch and raising a brow as one of the workers held out two small cheese wheels in her palm.

“I know! I even surprise myself sometimes,” Vivienne said, lying back with her head on a cushy pillow. She placed her own cheese wheels over her eyes and sighed.

Half an hour later, Evelyn had been stuffed into a one piece body suit whose legs reached her mid thigh and had no sleeves. Her nails on both her hands and feet had been cleaned, filed and polished. She'd been massaged quite thoroughly and was admittedly more relaxed as she laid on her back with cheese wheels over her eyes. “I have to ask. What are the cheese wheels for?”

Vivienne huffed. “It pains me that you even have to ask. You've clearly been living too long in barely civilized conditions.”

There was a clatter in the next room, followed by giggling. “Did you hear something?” Evelyn asked.

“Relax, darling. It's spa day,” Vivienne insisted. “How have you been? It seems ages since we've spoken. How are things with our dear Commander Cullen?”

Evelyn smiled, but Vivienne was unworthy of her secrets, so she said, “Things are excellent. Thank you for asking.”

“It's such a comfort to hear that at least _one_ facet of your life hasn't fallen apart due to incompetence,” Vivienne said sorrowfully.

“ _You_ must be keeping very busy,” Evelyn pointed out.

“Someone has to keep the mess that's been made of Thedas' institutions of magic from flying apart,” she said with a sigh. Evelyn felt a hand on her arm and she removed her cheese wheel to see who it was. Apparently, their time was up. Vivienne sat up across from her and stretched. “Don't you feel better, my dear? This place really does work miracles.”

Evelyn glanced around as she stood and noticed several cord wrapped hams and a stick with a banana tied to it's tip strewn across the floor. A few of the workers were attempting to clean up the mess. “What... happened?” It had to have been Sera. Evelyn thought she recognized that giggle.

“Darling, it's spa day. Don't fret. You'll undo all the good they've done. Come along, Inquisitor. They have other appointments, you know...” Vivienne ushered her into the changing rooms and Evelyn changed her clothes for the fourth time that day.

When she left the spa, the sun was dipping lower. Before she got far, Dorian ushered her back to him. “I forgot to give you this earlier. A present. A going away present.” he handed her a small box. When she lifted the lid, a small purple crystal was set in a silver claw and hung on a black chord. She lifted it from the box and it hummed with magic at her touch. The crystal was beautiful. Dorian took it from her hands and clasped it around her neck. “It's a sending crystal. Amazing what friendship with the Inquisition gives you access to. If I get in over my head, or you're overwhelmed with sorrow for lack of my velvety voice... magic!” She looked up at him and he was smiling sweetly at her. “What? You didn't think I would just leave and you'd never hear from me again, did you?” At the look on her face he hugged her close. “You are my _dearest_ friend. Perhaps my only friend. That will never change, no matter where we are.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you, Dorian. It's beautiful... and exactly what I needed,” she said with a smile as she clutched the crystal with her hand.

“I almost forgot it in all the distraction,” he said with a grin. “Now go and find your husband.” he shooed her.

She thanked him again and left to do just that. What she found instead was Cassandra who upon seeing her jumped like a frightened cat. “Is everything all right?” Evelyn asked, chuckling.

“Yes! Well, I...” Cassandra's eyes flitted nervously back and forth. “wanted to speak with you... and now you're here.”

Evelyn blinked, wondering why Cassandra was acting so shifty. “Should I leave and come back later so you can try again?”

Cassandra pursed her lips. “Always with clever suggestions.” She shifted from one foot to the other, her silver plated formal armor winking in the sun. “Maybe you should sit.”

“I can stand,” Evelyn said warily.

“Maybe _I_ should sit,” Cassandra amended, moving to drop on a nearby set of stairs. Evelyn sighed and moved to sit a step below her, waiting for the ball to drop. “Inquisitor... Evelyn... I want you to know that I am your friend. I will always be your friend.”

“Oh, well, that's...” Evelyn was going to continue, but Cassandra bullied ahead.

“So I hope to give you sound advice on this momentous day,” Cassandra settled a hand on Evelyn's shoulder. “Do what is in your heart, my friend, no matter what anyone might tell you.”

Evelyn frowned. “Maybe I should leave and come back. I think I missed the beginning,” she chuckled.

Cassandra sighed in exasperation. “I'm talking about marriage!”

“Marriage?!” Evelyn gasped, her eyes widening. How had Cassandra found out?

Cassandra balked. “Cullen is not hard on the eyes, I'll give him that... but if you truly intend to...” Evelyn simply stared open mouthed at Cassandra and the woman's expression turned into a confused frown. “You're not proposing... to anyone...” She stood up from the stairs and balled her fists. “I am going to kill Varric! Why do I believe anything he says? Why?”

Evelyn sighed. Cassandra was one of her closest friends, in spite of their rocky start. She deserved to know. “Cullen and I...” she stood and offered her hand to Cassandra, showing her the ring. “already eloped.”

Cassandra grabbed her hand. “You did? Here in the palace? Oh! The garden would be perfect for a wedding!” After her girlish gushing, Cassandra took a breath and patted Evelyn's hand. “Being Inquisitor has brought you good things. Many good things... But only a few have been by your choice. Take what happiness you can from those, and do not let them go. That is all I meant to say.” she smiled. “Advice from a friend, for the days to come.”

Evelyn pulled the Seeker into a hug and the woman stiffened before falling into the embrace.

 

Evelyn's jaw hung to the ground as fire erupted on the stage below her. Lithe and limber dancers pranced about, telling a story with their bodies and their masks. One that Evelyn was admittedly unable to follow. The spectacle was like nothing she had ever seen. Her heart was racing as the light's dimmed and several of the dancers lunged toward each other, reenacting a battle of some sort. She thought... She watched in anticipation, her hands wringing around her playbill as she sat on the edge of her seat, peering over the balcony. Then all of a sudden it stopped. Everything went still and the audience cheered. Evelyn gaped, listening to Josephine shouting “Bravo! Bravo!” to her left. She glanced at her ambassador.

Josephine looked over at her and recognized her expression. Evelyn began to stutter out her questions. “Was the woman in gold playing a King? Who was the man in feathers?”

Josie chuckled softly and patted Evelyn's hand that was now gripping the arm of her seat with intensity. “Oh, It's all very simple! The first actor's mask is determined by...” Josie pressed her lips together as Evelyn gaped, eager to learn. It must have been more complicated than she indicated because she cleared her throat and sighed. “Well, I will lend you the program guide... But tell me, did you enjoy the performance?”

“That was...” Evelyn paused, searching for the right words as Josephine took on a look of horror at the thought that she may have bored Evelyn. “One of the greatest things I've ever seen!” Evelyn cried.

“Truly?” Josephine asked with a wide smile.

Evelyn sucked in a breath. “That part with the glittery... and they actually set fire to...” She exhaled passionately and then chuckled with glee. “Yes, I truly enjoyed it!”

“Then I call tonight a great success!” Josie announced with pride. Suddenly, the theater went dark and fireworks sprung from the stage to explode on the high ceiling. “Oh, look! the encore signal!”

Evelyn's head whipped around and the rest of the show was brief but intense. When she and Josie walked out of the theater, Evelyn yawned and stretched. She was ready to call it a night. Josie walked with her briefly, but soon veered off to head to her assigned room.

Evelyn had made a point to memorize where Cullen's room had been earlier in the day. This was their first night as husband and wife, and she had already spent most of it with Josephine. A rustling in the bushes to her left drew her attention and there was a fireball in her right palm before she could think. “Is someone there?” she called out. There was no response, not as though she had been expecting one. Assassins didn't usually answer when their target called out to them.

“Are you all right?” Evelyn shrieked at the sudden voice to her left and she spun, ready to release her magic. When she saw Cole standing with his hands behind his back and his head cocked to stare at her, she slumped her shoulders and sighed.

“Maker's breath, Cole. Don't sneak up on me like that.” She closed her fist around the magic burning in her palm and placed the hand over her racing heart. “You'll give me a heart attack.”

“Your heart won't attack you. It's happy,” Cole said with a grin.

She chuckled. “I suppose you're right. What are you doing out here... lurking?”

“I'm not lurking. Maryden likes flowers and shiny stones. I was looking for stones,” he said with a shrug. “But none of the stones around here are right. They don't sing.”

“Okay, well, good luck,” she said. “I'm going to bed.”

“He's waiting for you,” Cole offered.

“Thank you, Cole. Goodnight,” she called over her shoulder as she continued down the garden path. A few minutes later, she was past the courtyard and almost to the palace when her hand exploded in agony, lurching her forward as the night lit up green as the anchor flared. She gritted her teeth, grabbing her wayward arm with her right hand and pulling it back to her chest. Tendrils of stabbing pain lanced up her arm and into her jaw, like thousands of hot needles piercing her skin. Then as quickly as it had come, it stopped. She took a moment to catch her breath as she stared at the now calm anchor. The voices from the Well began to create a terrible din in her head, all vying for space. “Alright guys, everyone settle down,” Evelyn grunted, shaking off the residual tingle in her hand. “What's happening?” There was much confusion as the voices talked amongst themselves, but all they were able to convey was 'familiar magic' and the word Fen'Harel. She had heard the name before. It was the Dalish name for their trickster god. What that had to do with her mark, she had no idea. She sighed and the voices silenced as they realized they weren't helping her. “Thanks for nothing...” Evelyn sighed and went ahead to Cullen's room. She was too tired to fix this tonight.

 

Evelyn sat in the hard chair in the stuffy room, her back rigid and a glare plastered on her face as Arl Teagan sat on his high horse and accused the Inquisition, _her_ Inquisition of invading. “The Inquisition established an armed presence in Ferelden Territory. You outright seized Caer Bronach in Crestwood!”

“Yes,” she agreed through gritted teeth. “From _bandits_! Would you like us to give it back to them?”

Teagan huffed. “Your help was appreciated two years ago, Inquisitor. Now order has been restored, yet you remain. Invading under pretext of restoring order was exactly what the Grey Wardens did to us centuries ago, and we exiled them! Now the Inquisition is doing the same thing, with Grey Wardens in their ranks!”

Duke Cyril piped up, still haughtily insisting he was on Evelyn's side. “Your concern is ill founded. The Grey Wardens have proved their worth time and again.”

Teagan snorted. “Of course Orlais tolerates this interference. The Inquisition is the only reason Celene still has the throne.”

“Rest assured, Teagan, the Empire of Orlais will not stand idle if the Inquisition oversteps it's bounds.” Evelyn slowly dropped her head into her hands as Cyril droned on. “Unlike Ferelden, however, Orlais understands that these were the well-intentioned mistakes of a young organization.”

After rubbing her face, she glanced over at Josie who gave her an encouraging nod. _Chin up, Inquisitor_. It was hard to do that as the men argued. “An organization in need of a guiding hand. Yours, no doubt,” Teagan spat.

While the argument continued, an elven woman approached Evelyn from behind and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Pardon me, Inquisitor. Divine Victoria wishes to speak with you in private.”

Evelyn turned to frown at the woman. She was dressed in Inquisition trappings and stood politely smiling at Evelyn. “The Divine Victoria... who is sitting just up there?” Evelyn hissed quietly as she nodded her head toward Leliana who sat between the two arguing countries.

“Yes. And who was once your spymaster,” the elf insisted with a wink. Evelyn flicked her eyes to Leliana and the smiling Divine had been replaced by the menacing looking bard that had once been her spymaster. Leliana nodded carefully, so subtle that Evelyn was uncertain if she truly saw it. “It's a pressing matter, Your Worship,” the elf whispered urgently.

Evelyn cleared her throat and stood from her chair. The argument above ceased as both men gaped at her. “My apologies. An urgent matter has come to my attention. Ambassador Montilyet, can you handle this for a short while?”

Joesphine sputtered out an affirmative. “I... Of course, Inquisitor.”

“This is highly irregular!” Duke Cyril called after her as Evelyn followed the elven woman from the chambers.

Evelyn heard Leliana calmly call a recess and she went around the outside of the building to wait for the Divine. When she joined them, the elf led them toward the garden section that housed the tavern. A small building behind the tavern was their destination. A crowd was gathered and Leliana parted the sea of people by simply being who she was. They entered the single room guarded by two Inquisition soldiers and the sight before them made Evelyn take a step back. “The guard said we should both see this,” Leliana mused, kneeling carefully on a section of the floor that was not covered by the pool of blood spreading from the dead Qunari propped against the back wall. “I believe she was correct.” Leliana examined the body as closely as she dared in her white robes as Evelyn swallowed a wave of nausea at the stench and crouched beside her. “A Qunari warrior in full armor. How did he get into the Winter Palace?”

Evelyn stood, unable to stomach the smell that permeated the entire room with a wry snort, she said, “Deadly mysteries at the Winter Palace. Throw in a Halla statue and some caprice coins, and it's just like old times.” She sighed, trying her best to breathe through her mouth. “Can Josephine manage the diplomats while I look around?”

Leliana waved her hands. “She will be fine. It's all speeches and posturing for the first few days, anyway. I will extend the recess as long as possible. I will also have our friends ready themselves for battle, if need be.”

Evelyn's stomach flipped. “You think that's likely?”

“I think the Exalted council may be more exciting than we expected,” Leliana said with a smirk.

 _No, no, no, no. This was the perfect amount of exciting. No more is necessary. Please don't get more exciting..._ Evelyn ran her hands through her hair. “I'll go see if I can't figure out where the Big guy came from. Would you please ask Dorian to find me some proper armor, just in case.”

Leliana nodded and left her alone. There was a huge puddle of blood in the middle of the floor and Evelyn glanced behind her at the door. A clear trail led outside and to the left. The area had been thoroughly closed off by several Inquisition soldiers and Evelyn followed the trail. It led her to an alcove behind the building covered by a trellis covered in vines and thorns. The trail led up the trellis and Evelyn sighed. Apparently the bleeding Qunari had fallen from about three stories up. Or had climbed down. She couldn't be certain. She gingerly grabbed hold of the lattice work above her head and tested her weight on the white trellis, avoiding the thorny vines. She climbed up, following the blood trail. On the third landing, she climbed over the balcony rail and hopped down onto solid ground. This was already way more excitement than she had signed up for. A door stood open on the other end of the balcony, dangling as if it had been knocked from it's hinges by, possibly, an injured Qunari. She approached the door cautiously and groaned when she noticed what was on the other side. Her palm itched fiercely.

“I guess I'll need that armor after all,” she sighed to herself.

She climbed back down and made her way through the gawking crowd to find her friends. They had all gathered outside the armory and when she approached, Dorian's eyes widened. “Inquisitor?” Cassandra asked, her brow raised. “Leliana asked us to prepare in case there was trouble. What has happened?”

Evelyn explained the dead Qunari and then bit her lip. “He got into the palace through an active Eluvian on the third floor above the garden trellis. We need to get through the mirror and follow the blood trail. I want to know where he came from and why he came here. Bull, Cole and Dorian, you're up. I need the rest of you here running crowd control. We can't let this news get out.”

“Ah!” Dorian said, and then pressed his lips together. He separated himself from the others and grinned at her. “A moment, Evelyn, sweetheart, hmm?” he gripped her by the arm and led her away from the group. When they were a sufficient distance away, he stopped and crossed his arms in front of him. “Do you honestly think I'm going to allow you to prance about the Crossroads in your condition?”

She smiled at his concern. “Believe me, it's not number one on my list of things to do today, but I have no choice. We need to handle this. The Inquisition is in enough trouble as it is. We need to know what happened.” When he didn't look convinced, she pouted. “Dorian, please. That's why I'm taking my best with me...and why I asked Leliana to have you find me the proper armor. I trust you with _our_ lives... Did you find me something?” she asked with a small smile.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, fluttering a hand. “Of course I did. Silverite chain that will fit nicely under your regular robes. Completely unnoticeable and light as a feather. You're welcome. Just note that I was against this plan, and should anything happen, I will not be held accountable, nor will I be the one to inform our dear Commander.”

“Come on. Let's get back before the others think we're acting weird,” she said with a thankful squeeze of his hand.

 

Evelyn felt Dorian's barrier caress over her skin before she even stepped through the Eluvian. The cool familiar magic of the Crossroads excited the voices from the Well and she quickly silenced them. She needed her wits about her. On the other side, they were clearly in a different section of the Crossroads than they had been in before. Several bridges rose and dipped between dozens of floating islands. Many of the bridges did not fully connect, cutting them off from other areas. The blood trail was still fresh on this side of the mirror and Evelyn glanced behind her to be sure they had all come through before following the drops up a flight of stairs so shallow that she could take them five at a time. At the top of the stairs and to her right, another active Eluvian stood, the trail leading directly for it. “The trail leads to this mirror,” she pointed out.

“Right,” Bull grunted. “Let's see where this guy came from.” He gently pushed past her and stepped through first. He was exceptionally agitated that there was a dead Qunari and he had no idea why. He was likely wishing he hadn't burned all of his contacts in the Ben Hassrath.

Evelyn followed him through and into a darkened hallway with a bright light shining through at the end about 30 feet away up a few flights of stairs. She recognized the architecture around her. “Elven Ruins? I'm not even sure we're in Orlais anymore.” She followed the hallway towards the stairs and spotted another body on the second landing. “Another Qunari, dressed like the one on the Winter Palace,” she said, kneeling to examine the body.

“He's karashok. A foot soldier,” Bull explained. “Must've been in the same squad... Oh, this is gonna be fun. The old team together again to kick some ass! How about it, Kadan?”

“Ah, we're doing the names, are we?” Dorian asked with a curt frown as he tried to hide the smile.

“It's a title of honor, Kadan!” Bull said loudly.

Dorian made a sort of disgusted snort. “I need a drink.”

Bull nudged him playfully. “Aww, Do you want your _Amatus_ to cheer you up? I could do some of those flexes you like...”

Evelyn snorted as Dorian sighed. Cole glanced between the two of them as if he wanted to ask a question, but Evelyn held up a hand to stop him. “Let's go, children.”

She took the second flight of stairs out into the sunlight. Judging from the sun's position in the sky, they were definitely much father away from Orlais than she had ever been, and it had all happened in a matter of minutes. “There!” Cole pointed as off in the distance across a huge lake that had an island in it's middle with a castle like structure covering it, there stood another structure, flanked by green rolling hills and a small mountain by Fereldan standards. The structure fired off a large burst of magical energy, a loud bang carrying across the distance as the wave of energy dissipated before reaching them.

At least she knew where she needed to go. The question was how to get there. She currently stood at the top of another flight of stairs that led down to a square, enclosed landing. On the landing was another Eluvian and a giant scorch mark surrounded by more dead Qunari, these ones petrified to stone before being set ablaze. She hurried down the stairs. “Scorch marks everywhere. This is the work of a mage,” she pointed out, the ground still smoking around her feet.

“A powerful one,” Dorian agreed, his nose wrinkling. “I can still feel the heat crackling.”

With the barrier up around her, she could not feel the heat as he could. “We need to find out why these Qunari were here _and_ who did this to them.”

She headed for the Eluvian before Bull could get there first. On the other side, she found herself at the far end of a drawbridge to the castle in the middle of the lake. As she headed toward the bridge, she saw a broken Eluvian on her right and an active one to her left. Directly ahead was a mechanism that looked like it was missing a piece that fit into a slot on a pedestal.

She grunted in frustration as she looked up and saw living Qunari on the other side of the bridge. “Over there. Qunari. If we want to know why they're here, we've got to get across to that island.”

Her only option was to head for the active Eluvian to the left. Again, she hustled through. The entire area around the lake seemed interconnected, no crossroads between them. They simply went in one side and out the other to a new area. It was mildly disorienting. Evelyn fought off dizziness as she stepped out of the mirror. Surrounding her were more gray walkways of stone. They were still by the lake, judging by the sun. Up a set of stairs, they were stopped by several translucent spirits. Dorian gasped in wonder as one holding what looked like a giant hammer addressed Evelyn. “Atish'all vallem, Fen'Harel elathandra.”

Dorian whispered to her. “The elves bound a spirit here? It feels... old. Very old.”

“What does it want?” Evelyn mumbled, more asking the Well than her companions.

The spirit spoke again, more demanding this time. “Nuvenas mana helanin. Dirth bellasa ma.”

Evelyn heard the Well, urging her forward with a whispered phrase. “I think I know what to say,” she said, glancing back at Dorian and biting her lip. Then she turned to the spirit and spoke the words given to her by the Well. “Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris.”

She felt the tension of the spirit ease as it nodded and lowered it's massive hammer. “Amae lethalas.” Then it turned and walked away to disappear into the wall ahead.

“Yes. Good,” Cole said happily.

“It was part of a ritual. A secret greeting from those Fen'Harel trusted... If Mythal's Well of Sorrows knew this... were they close? Friends, or... I'm not sure.” She shook her head. There wasn't time. She needed to get back to the summit. The raised floor they stood on circled a tall tower. Evelyn followed it around to the left, finding nothing but another broken Eluvian and a couple of blocked paths. On the fourth side around, there was a mosaic much like the ones they'd seen in Mythal's temple. She reached her hand up to brush some grime from the tiles and get a better look at it. The anchor reacted, connecting with some residual magic in the tiles. Her hand burned and images flashed through her mind, telling a story without words. It was an odd sensation to feel the words spoken as the magic crackled around her. _Fen'harel bids you welcome. Rest, knowing the Dread Wolf guards you and his people guard this valley. In this place, you are free. In trusting us, you will never be bound again._ When it was finished, the mosaic crumbled to reveal a hidden doorway that led to an Eluvian. “That was like veilfire,” she said in awe, shaking the tingling from her hand. “It claimed... this was a refuge for elven slaves.”

“Yes,” Cole agreed. “I can feel their pain. They came here hurt, hungry. This was help, a new home.”

“This whole valley was a sanctuary 'created by the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel',” Evelyn explained.

“Fen'Harel?” Dorian asked skeptically. “The Dalish elves' god of misfortune?”

She shrugged, short of an explanation and headed into the Eluvian. On the other side they were high up in a tower, looking out over the valley. She recognized it as the tower that had released the magical blast a few minutes ago. They had traveled all of the way across the lake. Dorian stepped up next to her. Crossing his arms to survey the valley over the broken balcony where they stood. “Here we go again. What a change of pace from the Winter Palace. A clear sky, a beautiful view, and... yes! Fields and fields of stripweed as far as they eye can see!” He waved a hand outwards to encompass the valley, his mustache bristling in disgust.

“You bring your handkerchief?” Bull asked.

Dorian shot him a glance. “I'm not _allergic_!”

Bull grumbled, crossing his own arms. “You always say that, and a half-hour later, you're taking mine.”

Dorian sighed, inhaling deeply and rolling his eyes. “Amatus, could you not fuss like an old...” Suddenly Dorian sneezed and Evelyn couldn't help snickering behind her hand.

“Aha!” Bull shouted victoriously as he handed over a giant handkerchief.

Dorian scowled and snatched the cloth from Bull. “Let's move on, shall we?”

The left set of stairs was blocked by debris from the balcony over head that had crumbled. So Evelyn led them all around the right, circling the tower and climbing to the next level. There were more spirit sentries that disappeared behind another of the mosaic images. Evelyn flexed her fingers, not looking forward to the unpleasant burning that accompanied the anchor's new connection to the elven magics. Bull knelt to examine another Qunari body near the top of the stairs. “Cuts all over the back. He was killed by surprise.”

“This can't have happened too long ago. The blood's not even dry.” Evelyn cracked her knuckles, drawing a sigh from Dorian before she held her hand up to the mosaic. Again the rippling burn shot up her arm and the feelings of the past shuddered through her body. _Fen'Harel has been falsely named a god, but is as mortal as any of you. He takes no divine mantle, and asks that none be bestowed upon him. He leads only those who would help willingly. Let none be beholden but by choice._ She gritted her teeth and explained. As Dorian's hand fell on her shoulder and the mosaic burned out of existence. “This is... Fen'Harel helping former slaves as a mortal. Not a god.”

Bull hummed. “Kinda curious this guy had to specify he _wasn't_ a god.”

“Fen'Harel sounds like quite the rebel,” Dorian said. “The old 'elven gods' must have simply loved that.”

They descended a circling staircase and the area became darker and darker. Evelyn was tempted to draw her staff to light the way, but the anchor seemed to be doing a decent job of that on it's own. At the bottom of the stairs, there was another mosaic. “Maker's balls,” she cursed.

“Are you sure?” Dorian asked.

“No choice,” she grumbled, lifting her palm to the glowing magic. A fresh explanation flooded her mind. _The gods, our Evanuris, claim divinity, yet they are naught but mortals powerful in magic who can die as you can. In this place, we teach those who join us to unravel their lies._ Behind the mosaic hung a rounded metal tree, much like the ones she had seen in the Crossroads when Morrigan took her through, upside down, the roots embedded in the ceiling. It sparked with magic, lighting an otherwise dark room. “This claims the elven 'gods' we just 'Evanuris'... powerful but completely mortal mages.” She rubbed at her palm.

“Whoever ran this place was trying to rebuild the slaves' confidence. Get rid of old propaganda,” Bull pointed out.

“If that's true, Fen'Harel was teaching these freed slaves the truth about these 'false gods'...” She stepped into the room, the sparking magic lighting up a pedestal beneath the hanging tree. She was willing to bet the statue they needed to extend the bridge to the castle was on that pedestal. Three steps into the room and the magic crackling in the tree spiked toward her and the anchor reacted, lancing pain up into her jaw, and making her ears ring. She gripped her arm and cried out.

Dorian was at her side. “Are you hurt?”

She hissed through gritted teeth as the pain quickly dissipated, leaving her hand numb. She shook it out. “It felt like the anchor stung me.” He almost protested, but she shook her head and he pressed his lips together, his face fading from view as the anchor calmed and the glow receded. She reached out in the now completely dark room and wished there were light for her to see by. She was not up for using her magic just then. She wanted to get away from this place and it's damned murals and elven magic. Her right hand landed on the statue of a howling wolf and she could feel power building in her mark. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully and concentrated on the mark. She shoved her hand forward and the mark excitedly discharged the built up energy, creating a light source. She sighed. “At least the extra magic is good for something. Let's go.”

They headed back to the bridge through all of the Eluvians. When she had discharged the anchor's magic, the residual glow had not only lit their way, but she had felt a hum of protection fall around her like a barrier that she didn't need to use her mana to maintain. It didn't last more than a few minutes, but she could already feel the power building up again for future use. It hurt, but maybe it could come in handy later in a pinch. Dorian was watching her carefully and she could hear the lecture in her mind that she was likely to receive when they returned to the Winter Palace. With a sigh, she placed the statue on the pedestal and groaning mechanisms activated. From beneath the water of the lake, the bridge lifted, damp and covered in algae and flopping fish that had been caught unaware. She toed a few of them back into the water as she passed, picking her way carefully across the slippery surface.

Almost as soon as they reached the opposite side of the bridge and the Qunari spotted them, one of them shouted. “Vashedan! The Inquisition doesn't leave alive!”

“Shit,” Evelyn cursed, discharging the anchor as a huge Qunari with a maul charged at her. Bull stepped in just before the maul came down on her, blocking the attack and giving her a chance to scurry out of the way. She grabbed her staff and called her magic. It was a calming feeling to have her own magic flowing easily from her veins. She erected a fire wall between her and the charging group. Cole flitted through the fire, so quickly that he barely disturbed the flames. The large Qunari fumbled around, trying to get a handle on the fast moving boy. Evelyn took advantage of the distraction to cast a firestorm. Large balls of fire rained down on the group, causing panic and shouting. Dorian ringed the frightened Qunari with a wall of ice to keep them trapped and the firestorm did the rest. “Well, I guess the Eluvian leading to the Winter Palace was not a coincidence,” Evelyn griped. “Let's see if we can find out why the Qunari want us dead, shall we?”

“No idea. They weren't Tal-Vashoth, though. This might be a rogue group, but they _think_ they're following the Qun,” Bull sighed.

Inside the castle, they came across more Qunari locked in battle with some of the elven spirits that she had warded off with the phrase from the Well. They lent a hand to the spirits, attacking the Qunari who came at them. They fought through the large atrium to the other side. Up on a raised dais, there was a large statue of a wolf lying down with it's head upraised and looking off to the side. Evelyn studied the statue, finding a small button between the wolf's front paws, and the paintings on the walls. The button did nothing when she pressed it. The paintings made her shiver, reminding her of Solas' murals in the solarium back at Skyhold. She studied the scene and mused. “That's Fen'Harel. Removing the face markings from a Dalish elf?” She brushed her fingers over the art.

“This place is older than the Dalish,” Dorian pointed out.

Evelyn shrugged. “Maybe the markings used to have a different meaning?” She left the mural and looked around for more clues there had to be something to lead them forward. In a small alcove in the back of the dais, she spotted a tablet. She approached the tablet and quickly translated. “The Dread Wolf keeps it's gaze on the one light that illuminates the way forward.” She scratched her head. The mechanism was on the statue, so the statue must have been looking where she needed to be. She jogged around the statue to it's front and stood before it's gaze. Behind her on the wall was an unlit brazier. She could taste the veilfire lingering. All it took was a light touch of mana and the veilfire blazed to life. She moved back to the statue and tried the button again. With the brazier lit, the entire statue rolled on a track to the side, opening up a secret passage down.

At the bottom of the stairs, there was another mural and more whispered feelings of truth. _The brand of the Evanuris can be lifted from you, that all may know you oppose their cruelties. None here are slaves. All are under our protection. All may choose to fight._ On the other side of the mosaic was a rather impressive armory. “Hidden weapons,” she gasped. “These freed slaves actually fought back against the Evanuris posing as gods.”

“Interesting word, 'Evanuris'... If all it means is 'mage leader', well, they were basically Magisters,” Dorian said, looking around at the armory and rubbing his chin.

They followed the stairs down past the armory into what looked like a barracks. On the far side of the enclosed room, there stood another Eluvian surrounded by a huge group of Qunari. It was an enclosed space and Evelyn was extremely uncomfortable. She felt trapped as Dorian stepped in front of her and the Qunari spotted them. She did everything she could to keep out of reach of the Qunari, but they had a female with dual daggers like Cole and she was fast for her size. Evelyn was backpedaling as she slashed at her, spinning and reaching with those deadly knives. Cole grabbed Evelyn's arm and pulled her out of the way as Bull rushed in, bashing the female with his hammer and knocking her away. Dorian took down the other Qunari still standing as Cole's eyes widened and they flicked over her, his hand still gripping her bicep. “Small, fragile secret. Frightened and fatigued. Panicked breaths overwhelm duty with hesitation. _Keep it safe_.” His free hand pressed against her still flat stomach. “You're pregnant.” He announced just as silence fell over the room and the last Qunari fell.

Evelyn cringed. “You're what!?” Bull shouted.

She gently brushed Cole away and sighed. “It's fine... I'm fine. Dorian found me some chain to wear under my armor...”

“You knew, Kadan, and you didn't tell me?” Bull asked, his shoulders slumping.

“It wasn't my secret to tell, Amatus. Evelyn thought it best no one knew until after the fate of the Inquisition was decided,” Dorian explained.

“And then the Qunari decided to start a ruckus,” she shrugged.

Bull grumbled a few short curses in Qunlat and then his eye fell on her. “What _I_ don't understand is why Cullen would allow you to deal with this yourself. You have plenty of soldiers...”

Evelyn shuffled her feet and bit her lip. “He didn't exactly 'allow' me to do anything. He doesn't know. I only just found out a few days ago. I haven't been able to find the right time to tell him.”

“After you got married yesterday might have been a good time,” Bull said with a chuckle.

“With everything that is happening... I've been really busy. The wedding was a bit of a surprise for me as well... Look we _don't_ have time to discuss this, and you can't say anything. He would kill me. The Qunari are obviously here for a reason. We need to figure this out.” When he attempted to argue, Dorian stepped in to reason with him, clearly on her side, the ever supportive friend.

She extricated herself from the argument and began looking through the papers around the room. Cole hovered near her, clearly agitated. “Your hand, it's hurting.”

“I know,” she mumbled. “I don't know what is going on with the anchor.”

Cole frowned. “You were kind when others would have sent me away. You let me help. You made me more than I was... happy... human. You kept me safe from Corypheus, and now I'll keep you safe.”

She smiled and touched his upper arm. “Thank you, Cole. That means a lot.” She squeezed his shoulder and then allowed her smile to Fade. “You understand that you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. My secret doesn't leave this room.”

He wrung his hands but finally he looked up at her through his shaggy hair and nodded. “Anything for you, Evelyn.”

She smiled again and went back to shuffling through the papers. Most were written in Qunlat and then shakily translated. She wondered why the Qunari would bother, but one paper in particular caught her attention. It was order that had the Qunari deploying their people all around the elven ruins because of their proximity to the mirror that led to Halamshiral. Evelyn wondered how the mirror had gotten into the Palace in the first place, but that was a last question on her list. She held up the letter and waved it to get Bull and Dorian's attention. Bull looked skeptical and Dorian looked irritated. “This letter says the Qunari came to these ruins because the Eluvians connect to Halamshiral.”

“So their _aiming_ for the Winter Palace,” Bull concluded, moving away from Dorian to take the letter from her, their argument over her seemingly forgotten.

“It was some sort of infiltration,” she said nodding. “There's no more details.”

“Agh, this is crazy,” he shook the letter and slapped it with the back of his hand. “They're acting like we're at war!”

“Are they?” Evelyn asked, biting her lip and hugging herself.

Bull sighed, looking down at her with apology. “I don't know, Boss. I wish I did.”

She shuffled through more papers and found another interesting piece of parchment. “A note about an 'unknown intruder' coming through an Eluvian.” She squinted at the sloppy translation. “They 'turned spirits against us', then fled.”

“It must be a mage,” Dorian said, reading over her shoulder. “They killed any Qunari in the way and let the spirits do the rest.”

“Two parties, then,” Evelyn sighed. “The Qunari and a mystery agent determined to stop them. Come on. We have to warn people about the Qunari's designs on the Winter Palace.”

She dropped the extra papers she had in her hands and headed for the Eluvian. Bull's hand landed on her shoulder. “Just so you know, I don't like this, Boss.”

She smiled at him patting his giant hand. “I trust you just like I trust Dorian... I guess it's better that you know now.”

“I _should_ have known before. I would have gone first through _all_ of the Eluvians.” He gently moved her behind him and smiled before stepping through the Eluvian.

Dorian chuckled at her expression. “Insufferable, isn't he?”

 

Back at the Winter Palace, Josephine, Cullen and Leliana had set up a small base of operations in what Evelyn considered little more than a broom closet. Cullen was pacing back and forth between the two women, his sword strapped to his belt in spite of his formal wear. Her eyes followed him back and forth, the pacing making her nauseous. “One dead Qunari was bad enough. Now we have more and they're hostile.”

“This makes no sense,” Josephine said, stopping him with a hand to his forearm. Apparently the pacing was getting to her too. “The Qunari may not be friendly to the Inquisition, but they have no reason to attack us.”

“They also have no reason to be here... or using Eluvians... at all,” Leliana added, her tall hat tipping with her head.

“I've had the mirror placed under guard for now, Your Holiness,” Cullen said respectfully.

Leliana sneered. “Cullen, please just call me Leliana.”

“Yes, Your... Leliana,” he stuttered, offering her a bashful smile.

Evelyn interrupted. “It appears the relative peace and quiet of the last two years is coming to an end,” she said with a sigh, leaning on the table between her and the others. She had apparently picked a terrible time to start a family.

“First the Blight... then the mages and templars... then Corypheus, now this... Can't we go ten years without the world falling to pieces?” Cullen grumbled, his hands landing on his sword hilt. If only he knew the personal threat he was under.

“We must ensure that the Qunari do not disrupt the negotiations. The Exalted council is in a very delicate state,” Josephine said warily.

Cullen's nose wrinkled in disgust. “I'm certain you can soothe the nobles' ruffled feathers while we solve the real problem.” They were both right. The Qunari were indeed a threat, but the fate of their entire lives rested on what was decided at the Council.

Josephine frowned and brandished her quill at him. “ _Not_ when the Inquisitor insults everyone present by walking out in the middle of the talks!” Evelyn flushed as Josie's face smoothed and she glanced at her. “Our only advantage is that Orlais and Ferelden are divided in goal and grievance. If they unite against us, Divine Victoria will have no choice but to support their claims. We could lose everything.” Evelyn's stomach balled up in knots. That was exactly what she couldn't allow to happen.

“I know we're asking a lot of you, Ambassador,” she said softly. “ I promise, we won't make this any harder for you than necessary.”

Josie hung her head. “My apologies. I will attend to the Exalted Council.”

“And while Josie does that, we will investigate,” Leliana said with a hint of excitement that Evelyn did not share.

“ 'We?' Your Holiness?” Josephine asked quizzically.

Leliana turned her head forward and scowled, her lips pursed. Then a frustrated sigh escaped her. “You too, Josie?”

Evelyn sighed. “I'll head back to the Crossroads. We need to find out what the Qunari are doing and why they attacked.”

“And I'll have a quiet word with our Honor Guard,” Cullen assured her, his expression questioning as he watched her fidget.

She turned and left to gather the others, dreading another trip through the Eluvians. Duty called and she was the Inquisitor. She had to trust that Bull, Dorian, and Cole could keep her out of trouble. She was shuffling slowly toward where Cullen had had the Eluvian moved to when his familiar touch gripped her wrist. “Hey,” she said softly, offering him a smile.

He was frowning. “Ev, is everything all right? You seem... distracted.”

“It's fine,” she lied, wishing she could spill everything, about the baby, about her mark and the odd things it was doing, but she had a mission. She needed to handle this without having him worrying about her. “I'm just tired. We just got started and this council is already getting out of hand.”

He chuckled. “Doesn't everything that you're involved in?”

She shrugged. “It's a talent.”

He pulled her into a short hug, wary of the eyes on them from all around. “Just be careful. You've only been my wife less than a day. 'Til death do us part should be a long way away.”

“No need to worry, there's just a bunch of angry Qunari who want me dead...” she cocked her head and frowned. “On second thought, do worry.” She grinned. “I'll see you when I get back. I promise.”

He reluctantly let her go and she hesitated, swallowing the urge to confess again. Then with a short nod, she turned and continued to the Eluvian.

 

Through the mirror, there was immediately something different. “That path wasn't there before,” she pointed out. Just past the first Eluvian that led to the elven ruins, there was a new bridge that led up to a second island. Several Qunari were running across it and into another eluvian.

They crossed the bridge and Evelyn noticed a strange magical item that was about the size of a dragon egg. It hummed with magic, but before she could touch it, Dorian swatted her hand away. “You don't know what that is... Curiosity killed the cat you know.”

She huffed as Bull moved past them toward an active Eluvian. “All right. Let's see where they were going.”

Evelyn followed him through and they were set upon by the group of Qunari they had seen. “Vashedan! You, who serve Fen'Harel! The Qun demands your death!”

While fighting, Evelyn noticed they had congregated near a broken down bit of wall. Several silver barrels were piled near the wall. She had a hunch that she knew what they were doing, so she helped them along. She laid down a glyph at their feet and reached for her mana, setting the Qunari and the barrels on fire. The barrels nearly immediately exploded with a loud BOOM, killing the Qunari and smashing through the wall. When the screaming was silenced, she looked around. “This is the Deep Roads.”

“We need to find out what these Qunari were up to,” Dorian said, glancing down over the ledge where they were standing into the depths below and shuddering.

“So lets go see, shall we?” Evelyn asked, heading for the hole she'd blown in the wall. On the other side, more Qunari bodies explained their need for explosives. “Looks like there was a bad cave in.”

The small room led to a long staircase lit by several torches that had been lined up along the walls. As they descended the grand staircase, Evelyn gasped and Dorian cursed. “Fasta vass!”

Directly ahead on the lower levels of the massive caves around them, hundreds of Qunari milled about. Evelyn recognized mining equipment and more of the barrels of explosives. They were going to need to be careful. “Look at all that! The Qunari have a huge operation here.”

The ground below their feet trembled as she reached the bottom of the stairs that dropped down into the enormous chasm below. It was pitch black beyond the reach of the torches. “Yeah, but for what?” Bull asked.

Evelyn had a sneaking suspicion she knew the answer. “Aren't the Deep Roads usually brighter? Like when we found those ruins under Crestwood. Everything was all... glowy.”

“It's almost as if all of the Lyruim in the area has been mined to the rock,” Dorian mused.

The ground shuddered again and rocks fell from the ceiling around them. “This place isn't stable,” Evelyn warned, holding her arms out for balance. They needed to investigate and get out of there before they were buried. She left the staircase and dipped into a door frame to another section of the structure.

Almost as soon as she crossed into the darkness, the anchor flared angrily, stinging her hand again and making her ears ring. She gritted her teeth. “Boss,” Bull growled, drawing out the word. “Your hand's doing that thing again...”

She sighed. “Well, maybe the anchor can make itself useful down here.” She discharged the built up magic as she had before, the soothing barrier slipping over her and the entire room lighting up in an eerie green glow.

She held her arm aloft to cast the light ahead. The next section they passed into looked like it had once been a courtyard of some sort. A split staircase surrounded a large sculpture in the middle of the room. The sculpture looked elven. Strange to see in the Deep Roads. Skittering noises sounded below and Dorian said, “Watch your feet, everyone.”

Deep stalkers had caught their scent. Terrible little creatures that fed off Lyrium and attacked anyone that encroached on their territory. They traveled in packs, circling aggressively like tiny little ankle biters. Evelyn laid ice mines ahead of them, blocking the stalkers from making it up the stairs without getting impaled. “Nasty little buggers,” she commented as the mines detonated, skewering the entire close knit pack. They took the opposite stairwell down and it put them in a room to the right where the stalkers had come from.

“How desperate are the Qunari to work in these conditions?” Dorian mused, as Evelyn stepped onto the rickety wooden bridge that had been built up to replace the stone floor that had broken in to chunks and been scattered into piles around the room. Evelyn spotted another pack of stalkers not far off, their beady little eyes glowing in the darkness ahead. She detonated a fire mine beneath their feet, charring the tiny creatures. The squeals of pain coupled with the cloying scent of burning flesh turned her sensitive stomach.

“Oh, bad idea,” she mumbled, leaning against the wall with one hand, her head dipped low. She breathed deeply in through her mouth, trying desperately not to lose her breakfast. Dorian offered her his own handkerchief to breathe through, but the perfume that lingered on the cloth just made the situation worse. Cole slipped up between them, handing Dorian back the cloth and laying a hand on Evelyn's back.

“She doesn't like the smell. It's too angry. The other is just a mask.” Cole did whatever it was that Cole did, and Evelyn could breathe again. The knot in her gut eased up and she looked up at his smiling face. “She likes my magic.”

“Thank you, Cole.” She said, straightening and tucking her hair behind her ears. He nodded and they moved ahead, walking around the smoking corpses of the stalkers. The path ahead was blocked but Evelyn noticed a light flickering off to their right near the ground. Upon further inspection, it was the light of a campfire below. “Look! Someone up ahead! I think he's human,” she said, pointing. Cole flickered out of sight and headed down first to run interference in case the man was dangerous. The man eyed them warily as she sat on the ledge and dropped down into his campsite, Bull and Dorian on her heels.

“Stay back!” the man warned, standing up as she got closer and brandishing a sword. “I... wait... your hand... are you the Inquisitor?”

She crossed her arms as he lowered the sword. “Odd to find a human down in the Deep Roads at all, let alone one surrounded by Qunari,” she pointed out as Cole shimmered back into sight behind the man and stalked around to join them.

“We don't have much time. Please, what the Viddasala is doing... you have to stop her,” the man said.

“The Viddasala?” Bull asked in horror. “That's a high ranking Ben-Hassrath. Specializes in magic. Finding, studying, stopping...”

The man shook his head. “Not anymore. I don't care whether you serve Fen'Harel or not. Someone has to stop her.”

“Why do the Qunari think the Inquisition serves Fen'Harel?” Evelyn asked with a frown.

“I don't know. The Viddasala said it, and the Qunari here accept it as fact,” the man said, fidgeting with his sleeves. “We've had agents of Fen'Harel causing trouble all over the Crossroads. Sabotage, making spirits attack us... I assumed the Inquisition was their army, that you came here because Fen'Harel told you to.”

How could Fen'Harel have told them anything? He was centuries dead. “Who exactly are you anyway?” She asked, wondering how he had gotten mixed up in this.

“My name is Jerran. Ser Jerran, once. I was a templar in Kirkwall, until I joined the Qun,” he admitted.

“You're Qunari?” she asked, knowing it was possible for other races to join, even though it was rare. The Qunari were not a race per say. They were a religion.

“Kirkwall was... madness. Chaos. The Qunari were like the eye of a storm,” he explained. From what Cullen had told her, that much was truth. “I stand for order and discipline, protecting the innocent from magic, but this plan... It's as mad as Meredith ever was.”

“What do you mean? This Viddasala's not doing her job anymore?” Evelyn pressed.

“Almost a complete reversal, actually,” he said with a shrug. “This place is a Lyrium mining and processing center. The Qunari need it for... have you ever heard of Saarebas?”

“ 'Dangerous thing'... 'swhat the Qun calls mages,” Bull explained.

“Even as a templar, I'd never seen anything like the power that saarebas can unleash... And now, Viddasala is giving them Lyrium. A lot of Lyrium. It's part of something she calls 'Dragon's Breath',” Jerran said, worry in his tone.

“That's a load of crap!” Bull growled. “There's no way the Viddasala would let any saarebas within a thousand feet of Lyrium.”

“There's more to it than that,” Jerran insisted. “but I couldn't find out what. The Qunari don't like it when you ask too many questions.”

“The Qunari can't be mining their own Lyrium,” Evelyn said with a frown. “It kills anyone who tries, other than dwarves.”

Jerran nodded. “It killed the Qunari at first. But Qunari workers have a discipline only Tranquil can match. And they're quick learners. They figured it out.”

Evelyn grinned in spite of the implications. “That's not seriously the name of the plan, is it? 'Dragon's Breath'?”

“You know that most dragons' breath destroys everything in it's path, right?” the former templar asked with a shrug. “She said it would 'save the south'. That can mean only one thing... an invasion. This mine is the only source of Lyrium the Qunari have. They're using gaatlock... the explosive powder in the round casks... to mine, so they don't have to touch raw Lyrium. If you get the primers from central supply, you can prime the gaatlock and detonate it. The mines will go up in flames.”

“Even if I succeed, will that really stop the Viddasala?” Evelyn asked skeptically.

“It would be a start,” he shrugged. “Deep stalkers and cave ins will cut off reinforcements, but they'll still come when they hear trouble. You've got to find the Viddasala to end this war before it begins.”

She had a bit more information, but blowing up the already unstable cavern did not make her feel any better. “There's no telling how bad things will get when I destroy the mine. You'd better get moving,” she said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I will. Good luck, Inquisitor...” Jerran said with a short bow.

Once he was gone, she rubbed at her palm. “Let's go, we have a Lyrium mine to destroy.”

In spite of a short grumble from Bull, there were no objections. They all seemed as eager as her to get out of there and standing around arguing would not accomplish that. Outside the door that led from Jerran's campsite, they ran into a few more groups of deep stalkers before being led out of the torch lit area and into more rebuilt floors and darkness. Evelyn discharged the anchor and Bull grunted. “Ach, I keep feeling like I'm gonna bang my horns on this crap.”

Dorian cleared his throat. “Are you at all concerned about fighting your people, Bull?” his voice was low and sympathetic.

“I'm not Qunari anymore. Whatever they're doing, I'm ready to stop.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke sweetly. “So don't worry, unless we run into Venatori.”

They came to a long bridge that floated over the chasm they had seen on the way down. As they crossed, the cavern shook again, more large rocks falling from the high ceiling above. Evelyn could not see to the roof, which was probably better than being able to see the stalactites that hovered above, waiting to fall and impale them. Bull walked protectively at her side with his hammer slung on his shoulder rather than in his back harness. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, softly. “I know being Tal-Vashoth wasn't really your idea.”

He glanced down at her and smiled, dropping his free arm around her shoulders and briefly knocking her off balance as he half hugged her. “Yeah, Boss. Right now, only thing that matters is getting you through this safe and sound with your bun still in your oven. I don't think I want Cullen angry at me.”

She chuckled. “Don't tell him, but I think you could take him.”

Bull shook his head. “I'm not so sure about that. He's faster than me and he knows my weakness on my blind side.”

More Qunari poured across the bridge to meet them, interrupting the conversation. Bull tucked her behind him and went to work, not even a hint that what he was doing bothered him on his face. Perhaps his two years with the Inquisition and his relationship with Dorian really had changed him. Evelyn danced out of the way of a thrown spear that lodged itself in the ground by her feet and Cole shouted, running past her to whirl around the thrower and cover him in hundreds of deep cuts, bleeding him out in moments.

After they dropped their attackers, Dorian sighed. “I've lived with the Qunari threat all my life. If it escalates, it won't just be Tevinter fighting them.”

“Then we need to take care of this,” Evelyn agreed, Across the chasm, the path split in two directions. Evelyn took the right, that led around the edge of the structure on a narrow ledge with no guard rail. She pressed her back to the wall, her staff in her hand for balance as she shuffled sideways along the path. Her heart was racing and there was a lump in her throat. It was best she couldn't see down below because the height would have probably given her a heart attack. She stopped as another quake rocked the cavern. “Maker's Breath,” she gasped, closing her eyes and trying to disappear into the wall. Cole took her hand to lead her ahead, offering her more of his calming magic. When she stepped off the ledge onto a wider path, she breathed a sigh of relief. “We're going back another way,” she panted.

The darkness took over again as they passed through a tunnel that led downwards. She lit the cavern with the anchor, realizing that the more she used it, the less built up the energy got and the less it hurt. The maze of the facility was easy enough to pick their way through When they came upon 'central supply', they were met by a huge Qunari led by four others. The giant's horns had been shaven down, his eyes covered by a golden colored mask that had small holes drilled in it so he could barely see. A thick metal collar surrounded his neck and his lips were sewn shut. A strong binding was being controlled by the collar around his neck. “Saarebas,” Bull identified the creature. A loud humming began to echo through the huge room, bouncing off the tall structural pillars. The collared Qunari folded in on itself as it began to cast and Evelyn discharged the anchor again, allowing the barrier to fall over her. The spell exploded outward, blasting in a radius around the mage and knocking everything in its path including Evelyn and her companions. The spell slammed her against the far wall and she gasped for breath as she collapsed to her hands and knees, her staff clattering out of reach. Cole recovered more quickly and charged for the Qunari, drawing it's attention away from the others as they gathered themselves. Bull was the next one up. “You piece of shit!” he growled, charging with his hammer dragging along the ground. When he got within reach, he grunted in effort, swinging the hammer over his head and slamming it into the ground. He cracked the ground at Saarebas' feet and used his Reaver skills to feed on his own pain and make himself stronger. The mage quickly regained it's footing, just as Evelyn reached out to grip her staff. Bull and Cole seemed to have the mage in hand, so she drew on her mana and began to attack it's keepers. Short bursts of fire shot from the ends of her staff as she spun it, charging for a chain lightning. Her back was aching where she had hit the stone wall, her right shoulder throbbing.

She felt Dorian's magic fall over her like a blanket, lending her strength. It meant he was back on his feet too. She slammed her charged staff into the ground aiming her spell for the nearest threat. Lightning arched through several of the Qunari. A sharp feeling of terror fell over the room and Evelyn realized that Dorian was employing his necromancy, planting nightmares in the minds of their foes.

To their credit, none of her companions rushed to her side until the Qunari were dead. Cole was the first one there as she leaned heavily on her staff. He touched her gently, his fingers slipping over the bare skin if her neck. Warmth spread from his touch and he sighed. “She's okay.”

Evelyn chuckled in relief. “Tell that to my heart,” she patted his shoulder thankfully.

“I can't talk to your heart, Evelyn,” he said, his head tipped to the side and an inquisitive frown on his face.

“I know, Cole. It's a figure of speech,” she smiled. Then it was her turn to ask a question. “So you keep saying 'she'. Are you talking about me?”

He shook his head, “No.” He placed his hand flat on her stomach as he had before. “ _She_ is a 'she'.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Evelyn asked with a frown, her own hands wandering over top of his.

He shrugged. “She told me... She's very nice. Speaks softly like her mother, words like a whisper, but with the strength of a lion in her heart, like both of you. Fearless, yet fragile.”

Evelyn was at a loss for words as Cole casually talked about her unborn child as if they were best friends. Dorian gripped her shoulder and squeezed, smiling, but it made her hiss in discomfort as her fresh bruise stabbed in pain. He flinched and apologized, slipping some healing energy through his fingertips to relieve the ache. “Let's go and get those primers, shall we?” he asked as she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I spotted some of the mining platforms on our way in,” Bull said as they headed for the back of the large room.

“Good. Let's blow them and get out of here. I'm already starting to miss daylight,” Evelyn complained.

Dorian held her back as Bull dug through some of the crates on an upraised dais. “Are you quite all right? Don't think it's escaped me that the anchor is acting up.”

Evelyn pressed her thumb into the throbbing mark, biting her lip. “When it flares, I feel the pain from my palm to my jawbone,” she admitted.

He clucked his tongue and brushed her hair behind her ears. “When we get back to the Palace, I'll find you something to ease that. And I'd like it if Vivienne and I took a look at it together. Perhaps between the two of us we could find some way to slow it down.”

He had just put words to the biting fear nagging in the back of her mind. The anchor was spreading, as it had when she'd first gotten it. It could be killing her. She nodded hesitantly. “Let's deal with the mining platforms first. One thing at a time,” she begged.

He offered her a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but it was simply laced with his concern. He pulled her into him and kissed her forehead. “Of course.”

 

Blowing the platforms was the easy part. Getting out of the crumbling and slowly flooding cavern while trying to fight off a mess of Qunari was the hard part. A few close calls had her hands shaking as they made it back to the bridge crossing to Jerran's campsite. “Let's get out if here and warn the others about this 'Dragon's Breath' plan,” she said as they crossed the now wet and slippery bridge.

“Maybe Red's got news from her sources by now. We can ask her... you know, assuming we make it out of here without drowning,” Bull grumbled.

They found Jerran's body near the elven statue at the top of the stairs. “Poor man. He didn't make it far.”

“Looks like he got 'reeducated',” Bull said with a snarl, pointing out the sword wound through his chest.

“Nothing we can do now,” Evelyn said with a sigh, skirting around the body. They passed through to the grand staircase and water was rushing from above creating a small water fall off the edge. As they cautiously fought the small current coming down the stairs she said, “So, who gets to tell Cullen and Josephine we're probably at war with the Qun?” Everyone kept their mouths shut and she glanced behind her. “Anyone?”

“Pfft. Don't look at me,” Bull said with a shrug.

She groaned. “They're going to kill me.”

At the top of the stairs, they broke into a run to get past all of the boulders falling from above and slipped through the Eluvian and back to the Crossroads.

 

Back in their closet at the Palace, Evelyn paced back and forth like Cullen had been previously as Leliana snorted. “Dragon's Breath. The Qunari always enjoyed their metaphors.”

“But what does it mean?” Josephine asked shakily.

“Who knows? Qunari agents moving through Eluvians to attack the south is bad enough already.” Cullen said, his stance surprisingly stoic.

“I still do not understand why they accused the Inquisition of serving Fen'Harel,” Leliana mused, thoughtfully.

Evelyn paused briefly. “We know that Mythal actually exists. It's possible Fen'Harel is still here in some form, too.” She resumed her pacing.

“What you describe in the ruins certainly implies that the Dread Wolf of elven legend is a real person,” Leliana agreed with a shrug.

“But how does that implicate us?” Josephine asked, her voice rising. “What made them decide that the Inquisition serves this Fen'Harel?”

“Hopefully we will learn more after we have stopped them,” Leliana suggested hopefully.

“Let's see the Exalted Council try to disband the Inquisition after we've saved them from this 'Dragon's Breath',” Cullen said with a sneer.

Leliana shook her head. “We must find out what Dragon's Breath is, first. For now, our only lead is the Qunari leader. The Viddasala...”

The door at the top of the stairs swung open and both Arl Teagan and Duke Cyril barged in. “Gentlemen!” Josephine gasped in unamused surprise.

“My apologies, Lady Josephine,” Duke Cyril said, bowing his head. “There has been an incident with one of your soldiers.”

“How dare you!” Teagan growled, stopping Evelyn in her tracks. “It was bad enough that the Inquisition chose not to inform the Exalted Council of the Qunari corpse...”

“Orlais would have been happy to help with the matter,” Duke Cyril stepped in, cutting off Teagan's rage momentarily.

“But now your own guards are attacking servants? You have overstepped your bounds!” Teagan roared.

Evelyn felt her fists clenching, nearly drawing blood with her fingernails. “My plan to seize power in Ferelden would hardly start with soldiers scuffling in Orlais, Arl Teagan,” she growled sarcastically.

Josephine shot her a hard glare. “While the Exalted Council is our foremost priority, the Inquisitor will of course address this matter personally.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Duke Cyril said with a bow. “Orlais stands ready to assist the Inquisition, as always.”

“Secrets and lies,” Teagan spat. “Do you understand why we fear your Inquisition? You act as if you're the solution to every problem. How long before you drag us into another war?”

Evelyn's fists relaxed and she took a step backwards. That is exactly what she had done. Teagan and Cyril left the room and Evelyn sullenly followed after to see what the problem was with the soldiers.

Out in the courtyard near the tavern, another crowd had gathered. Evelyn pushed her way through the throng of bodies and made herself known. “What's going on here?”

One of her soldiers stepped up to salute her. “The Orlesians tried to take one of our people, Inquisitor. We've secured the area,” he reported.

She glanced from him to the elven woman that had originally called her from the Council and then down to a male elf who was sitting on the ground. Before she could find out what happened, a chevalier approached and scolded them in his thick accent. “This is the Winter Palace! You cannot simply seize control when one of _your_ guards attacks a servant!”

The man who had first spoken again interjected. “The Inquisition is handling this. When some noble commits a crime of fashion, you can take over.”

Evelyn held up a hand to indicate that he had said enough. “I only asked what he was doing,” the elven woman said with a shrug as the male stood up from the ground.

“And when I refused to bow to the Inquisition's dogs, you attacked me!” he accused.

“How would you like us to handle the situation, Inquisitor?” her soldier asked curtly.

Evelyn's heart skipped a beat when she realized what was sitting just beside the servant on the ground. “That barrel there... Where did it come from?” she asked, pointing a shaking hand at the silver barrel.

The servant answered. “I was ordered to bring wine for the guests.”

“You're lyin',” the elven woman accused.

“Your Inquisition soldiers are completely out of control!” the chevalier spat, his arms crossed indignantly.

“No. We're _in_ control. Keep talking, and you'll find yourself in chains,” her soldier threatened. Did Cullen really allow hot heads like this in their ranks?

“Please take the servant into custody,” Evelyn requested, needing to know more about the gaatlock barrel.

“Right away, Your Worship,” her soldier said with another salute and went to do as she asked.

“Inquisitor?” the chevalier asked.

“Ambassador Montilyet will explain later. For now, please hold the servant for questioning,” she sighed.

“As you say, Inquisitor. Lord Cyril will hear about this,” the chevalier conceded.

When she was alone, the elven woman approached her. “Inquisitor? I also found this by the barrel. I can't read the language.”

Evelyn thanked the woman as she accepted the slip of paper with scribbled Qunlat all over it. She turned away, planning to take the note to Bull when she spotted Leliana hovering in the doorway to the temporary smithy. She casually approached the Divine and Leliana smiled warmly at her. “Did you resolve the problem with the guard?”

“The guard is the least of our problems,” she hissed. “Someone smuggled gaatlock barrels into the Winter Palace.”

“Smile Inquisitor, there are many eyes upon us,” Leliana said through her own light expression. “At least now, we know the true extent of the Dragon's Breath.”

“How are you still smiling?” Evelyn asked, attempting to force her own expression to one that wasn't worried as hell.

“Years of training as a bard, Inquisitor. We cannot show weakness now. Enemies could be watching. All we can let them see is idle conversation between two friends.”

Evelyn shook her head, not certain how long she could hold the facade. She could already feel the false smile cracking. “You think the 'Dragon's Breath' is these gaatlock barrels?”

“Of course. A surprise attack, even through the Eluvians, would have met fierce resistance. But if everyone at the Exalted Council died in an explosion, the South would be rudderless, vulnerable to attack. This is what Corypheus _should_ have done after the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. An attack as swift and unstoppable as the breath of a dragon,” Leliana explained with confidence.

Evelyn sighed. “The guard who confronted the servant said she found this note near one of the barrels. It looks like Qunari writing.”

“Let me see,” Leliana said urgently, holding out a hand. “I picked some up from the Iron Bull, though I'm told my accent is atrocious.” She read over the note, her smile replaced by a frown as she translated. “These are orders for positioning the gaatlock in the palace... 'When duty has been performed, report to the Viddasala through the mirror marked by a bookcase'.”

“I've been hoping to meet the esteemed Viddasala. How nice of her to invite us over,” Evelyn quipped as she glanced up at the sky. It was darkening to a deep purple as the sun slowly made it's way toward the horizon, painting it with pinks and oranges.

“Good. While you do that, I will have agents locate the gaatlock barrels and remove them safely,” Leliana said, her smile returning. “I will also send word to my foreign contacts. We must see where else this dragon could strike.”

 

Back through the Eluvian with barely any time to breathe. Dorian handed her a few potions that he had whipped up to dull the pain of her mark. Another new bridge extended from the island that the Eluvian to the Deep Roads sat on. They trekked up the steep incline and at the top on the new island, there was a small library with books strewn everywhere on the ground. “An Eluvian marked by a bookshelf. This should be it,” she mused.

“Good. Time to get some answers from the Viddasala.” She followed Bull through the mirror and when she stepped out on the other side, she inhaled a deep breath and her skin went clammy. The air felt still, yet a breeze tickled her hair over her face. All around, things were in the wrong place, picked up, twisted and set back down wherever the Fade saw fit. Broken chunks of rubble and crumbling walls added to the chaos.

“Is this some sort of old elven library?” she wondered, looking around at the hundreds of shelves that moved along the walls and extended into the distance. She ignored the fact that they were in the Fade for the moment, moving to open one of the old and tattered books. The words were all jumbled and mixed up, making the text unreadable. Fade books.

Dorian muttered to himself as he made the same discovery on another table near hers. Leave it to the scholars to ignore the Fade and head straight for the books. They exchanged a smile before he spoke. “It definitely saw a massive magical backlash some time ago.”

That would explain all of the rubble. She had always thought the Fade looked wrong, but it had never looked destroyed before. “Let's hope we can track down the Viddasala in all this,” Evelyn sighed, closing the book she had attempted to read.

Not far along the path leading down from the entrance, they were stopped by an excited spirit. “Visitors! Patrons! Welcome! The halls are open!”

“What are you?” Evelyn asked knowing that Cole was the exception to the rule. Spirits of the Fade were all the embodiment of traits.

Without hesitation, the spirit consented to answer her question. “I am study. I am a learning thirst. Come, know what has not been lost. New words. New stories. The Qunari would not approach, but we learned their words as well. If you wish to exchange knowledge, they congregate by the lower gate.” Papers blew by on the wind as the spirit babbled.

“What did the old elves use this place for?” Evelyn asked.

“This is the Vir Dirthara.” Evelyn felt the spirit reach out it's arms to encompass the area, more than she saw it do so. Mainly it simply hovered, flickering orange and translucent. “The living knowledge of the empire. The libraries of every city. The wisdom of every court. A connecting place whose paths are in disarray.”

“What put this place into 'disarray'?” Evelyn asked, marveling at the implications.

“The Vir Dirthara was made with world and Fade. When they sundered, so did we,” the feminine voice said sadly. “Paths broke. Knowledge fragmented. Many were trapped. I preserve their last words.”

“What were these old elves 'last words'?” she wondered.

“ 'What happened? Where are the paths? Where are the paths? Gods save me, the floor is gone. Do not let me fall. Do not let me...' On this spot, that is all.” The words were recited with zero inflection. Simply a statement of fact.

Evelyn felt a sadness nestle itself in her chest. Those poor elves. “Thanks. Really paints a picture,” Bull said, his discomfort matching her own as he fidgeted.

“I'm looking for a Qunari called Viddasala. Do you know what she wants here?” Evelyn asked.

“Viddasala, yes. She uses scholars and mages for study. They fear this place, but they seek to know the veil.”

“What does Viddasala want to know about the veil?” Evelyn wondered. It was a shame the Qunari hadn't approached the spirit. It was rather helpful. “I regret I do not have more information. I am sundered from myself. If you discover another one of me nearer the Qunari, I may know more. Kindly give it my greetings. I have not thought with myself for some time.” Evelyn felt the spirit's longing.

“There must be thousands of years of history here,” Evelyn mused to herself. “There must be so much you can teach us...” Coming back after the Qunari were dealt with might not be such a bad idea.

“I will try to recall, honored patron, but there are gaps... breaks...” Apparently the spirit had taken her meaning as she wanted to know then and there. It continued, it's voice strained. “Greetings. Laughter. Emma enasal. Forms out of air. Light. Memories. Aneth ara! So many. Broken paths at every... Missing. Missing. Missing!”

Cole moaned behind her, a strangled sound. “Stop! Please, stop! You don't need to hurt yourself!”

The spirit sighed. “Yes, I... wisdom from Compassion. Yes, I will stop. Apologies. I knew all once. We knew. With the break, only fragments or knowledge new, since the fall.”

“I'm sorry,” Evelyn said, regretting her carelessness. “We'll be going now.”

“Know this. An unknown person, not of the Qunari, recently woke the Librarians,” the spirit warned.

“An unknown person? Could this be our agent of Fen'Harel?” she wondered.

“The Librarians facilitated learning before the fracture. Before the fall. Now, beware them. They are unwell.”

Evelyn nodded her thanks for the warning and continued past the spirit onto a flight of stairs leading up. When she got high enough to see out over the area, she gasped, spotting Qunari ahead. “There! Qunari!On that...” she tilted her head and her mouth fell open “upside down island?”

“They have a camp,” Cole said as if this were all an everyday occurrence for him.

Evelyn swallowed as her stomach flipped at the thought of walking over there. The path to the Qunari's island was blocked by a broken path, just as the spirit had described. Directly ahead of them was one of the egg shaped magical items she'd seen at the Crossroads. “You're going to touch it, aren't you?” Dorian asked.

She glanced back at him and shrugged. “It might help.” There was an impression near the top in the shape of a hand. Evelyn placed her palm in the rut and warm magic poured from the egg. It vibrated across her skin and several flat rocks that were floating aimlessly around took on a purpose and floated together to form a bridge across to the next break in the path. “That repaired some of the steps. Let's look around for more, the inverted Eluvian must lead to the Qunari.” Across the wide open path. There was an Eluvian perched on it's pointed top, defying all laws of gravity.

Evelyn approached the stairs that she had replaced and carefully toed them with her boot to make certain they would take her weight. When she pressed down with her foot, she inhaled a deep breath and took the leap of faith, Dorian's hand gripping her arm at the last minute in case she plummeted to into space. He followed her across to the landing and she shrugged and headed to the left where she saw an active Eluvian. Bull took the lead through the Eluvian and on the other side they were in a rounded room walled in by towering bookshelves. In the center of the room stood one of the magically sparking metal elven trees. Evelyn cried out in surprise and pain as the anchor flared again, jolting this time into her temple. She nearly bit her tongue as she attempted to reign in the magic. Dorian gently gripped her hand and studied the mark as is glowed brightly. “Did you notice? Your anchor is flaring up near magic. Elven magic.”

She whimpered. “It doesn't hurt when I cast spells. What's causing this?”

“I'm not sure,” he said regretfully, returning her hand to her with a pat. “Tell us if it gets worse.”

She nodded and Bull led the way across the rounded courtyard to another Eluvian in the rear left corner. They passed through it, stepping out into a broken courtyard with another tree sparking ominously. Evelyn flinched as she passed it, but she assumed it was too close behind the last flare, because the mark did not react. She sighed in relief as they spotted a dead Qunari propped up near what used to be a flight of stairs. She knelt to examine the body. “This Qunari is dead, but there isn't a mark on him.”

“Back hunched, eyes wide open... He was scared shitless when he died,” Bull said, rolling his shoulders in discomfort.

They picked their way up the ruined stairs. At the top of a winding turn, they ran into another piece of study. It greeted them and immediately rambled off the last words from the area. “Welcome. Welcome. Listen to the last word of those who lived past the fall. 'How could the Dread Wolf cast a veil between the world that wakes and the world that dreams?' 'The Evanuris will send people. They will save us!' 'When have you last heard from the gods? When the veil came down, they went silent!' 'What is this veil? What has Fen'Harel done'?”

Evelyn frowned, her head tipping in curiosity. “Are these 'records' saying Fen'Harel _created_ the veil between our world and the Fade?”

“They're saying some guy just _made_ the veil? We must have been ass deep in demons before then,” Bull surmised.

“If it's true,” Dorian said with a glare at Bull. “that means the Fade and the waking world were once one in the same.”

Another eluvian ahead paused their deliberations and on the other side, Bull grumbled. “Floating crap, magic mirror crap, evil demon crap... This is like the Fade, only with falling to your death on top. When this is over, I'm gonna need somebody to hit me with a stick again.”

Evelyn chuckled as Dorian raised a brow. “I'm not sure whether I want that to be a metaphor or not.”

Bull punched Evelyn gently on the arm. “Next time we get the gang back together, let's do a dragon instead. Dragons are fun.”

“No promises, Bull,” Evelyn said with a smirk. “I think my dragon hunting days are over.”

Around a winding mess of rubble and down into the pit of the floating island they were on, they found another of the eggs. Evelyn touched it again and the steps floated away toward the upside down Eluvian. “Creepy,” Bull muttered. “Helpful, but creepy.”

“It's a place of learning. Maybe this 'Vir Dirthara' is helping us find what we need?” she wondered.

“Now it's even weirder,” he complained.

“Come on lets head back to that courtyard. Perhaps there's another Eluvian that leads to another... one of these,” she waved a hand at the egg.

Back through the Eluvian and near where they found the Qunari body, they came upon a group of Qunari that had apparently come to investigate. They were all still grouped around the Eluvian that led to the courtyard and Evelyn set up a path of ice mines that led them to Bull who took up position near the sparking tree. Cole flickered among the ones who had frozen, slitting their throats, and Bull smashed through the other two like they were nothing. Evelyn skirted the tree and Bull led them back into the courtyard. As they crossed the rear of the room, the anchor flared again, yanking Evelyn's arm toward the tree. She cried out again. The shocks were getting almost unbearable. “That's really not getting better, Boss,” Bull pointed out.

“The pain's stopped.” She gritted her teeth and pressed forward. If she was going to die, it wouldn't be without dealing with the Qunari first. Outside, she put on a brave face. Inside, she was screaming and crying. Why hadn't she just waited? Now it wasn't just her life at risk, but her daughter's as well. Cullen's daughter. How would he handle losing them both if it came to that? Would he crumble? Would he relapse just to forget? She took a ragged breath and swallowed her tears, setting her body on automatic as she folded in on her emotions.

“The magic here wakes it. Familiar, strong... ripping apart again. All again,” Cole said worriedly, hovering at her elbow as Bull led them through another mirror up a short flight of stairs. On the other side was a narrow ledge circling a hole in the floor. They followed the ledge around to a broken staircase. At the top stood a barely damaged ornamental floor where another eluvian stood guarded by one of the pieces of study.

“Welcome, and listen to the last words of those who walked this place. 'If we get out of here, I will end Fen'Harel!' 'After he held back the sky to imprison the gods, the Dread Wolf disappeared.' 'Lies! We must tear down the veil! The cities, the pathways... without magic, they're crumbling!' 'You're wasting your time. Fen'harel's veil has turned our empire to ruins'.”

Evelyn frowned, focusing her thoughts away from herself and from Cullen. “So, the ancient elven empire collapsed because the veil weakened magic?”

“If the old elves relied on magic even more than the vints, no wonder things went to crap when it dried up,” Bull mused.

“Do you realize what this means? What this place is? The _actual_ history of the elves could change everything!” Dorian gasped.

Through the Eluvian they stood on the entry way to what had once been a beautiful, golden library. Now it was crumbling and dreary and smelled faintly of moldy paper. As they climbed down the ornate stairs, Evelyn marveled at the construction and the apparent care that had once been put into it. “This is magnificent,” she breathed.

“Look at this place,” Dorian agreed, swiping his finger along the banister and despondently rubbing his fingers together to brush away the dust. “Now that we have so many samples... how hard would it be to build Eluvians of our own?”

“Mirrors to places that mirror what you've seen in those places,” Cole said with barely any inflection.

“Is that approval? Hard to tell with you,” Dorian sighed.

“Sorry,” Cole shrugged. “I don't know either.”

Evelyn took Cole's hand and smiled, clutching to him as they continued forward through the stacks of books and 'not books'. Evelyn spotted a familiar cover and curiously opened the book. “After these past few years, it would just be good to create something magical that is also helpful for a change,” Dorian continued to muse.

Evelyn did not offer her opinion. With the current state of her hand, it was likely she wouldn't live to see if Dorian was able to construct new Eluvians. She flipped through the pages of the non existent Hard in Hightown chapter as the pulsing of the mark constantly reminded her 'you're dying...you're dying...you're dying.' She slammed the book shut and grunted. “Come on. Let's go.”

They found the final egg that they needed to extend the bridge all of the way to the inverted Eluvian. More Qunari attacked them where they had met the spirit who told them of the last words in that area. Evelyn fought with an anger that she had never felt. The Qunari bringing these Eluvians to the Winter Palace and exposing the mark to this magic was the reason the mark had begun to spread again. They deserved to be ripped apart as she was being torn from the inside. A tear fell from her eye as she fought and she swallowed the emotion, shoving it down deep in her gut where it could fester, waiting for the Viddasala.

Back in the courtyard, four flickering spirits stalked around the shelves, their shapes oddly reminiscent of the avatar that the nightmare demon had taken in the Fade at Adamant. “ _They're_ the Librarians?” Evelyn guessed, stepping slowly down the stairs.

“Hello!” Cole called out, attempting to be friendly. The nearest spirit noticed their presence and it's head swiveled around and it shrieked. When it charged for her, Evelyn realized she was at the front of the line and she panicked. She discharged the anchor, to get the barrier up around her. The wave of magic exploded around her, slamming into the creature and knocking it backwards. It howled in pain, a sound that was universally translated. “You hurt it!” Cole said in amazement. “Your mark is more.”

Eveyn brushed off the shock that she had just used the anchor as a weapon and focused on the threat of the other three Librarians circling them. They flickered around the courtyard much like she remembered the nightmare doing, so she handled them similarly, planting glyphs like mines all around the area. And Fade stepping to avoid them. The spell made her nauseous, but she had no choice. The Librarians hit like a charging druffalo.

When the last one fell, shrieking, she sighed in relief, leaning heavily in her staff to catch her breath, clutching the fist with the anchor tightly. “Anyone hurt?” she asked.

“No worse than usual, boss,” Bull said warily, his eye studying her. “What about you?”

She chuckled wryly. “Dying slowly... let's go.”

Bull growled and Dorian harrumphed. They had both promised to protect her and her baby and now, they had done just that, but there was nothing they could do for the anchor that was, as Cole put it, 'ripping her apart'. If only she had had more time.

Back through the Eluvian and up the floating stairs to the upside down Eluvian perched on the hand of a giant golden statue as their next goal. The Viddasala awaited. Evelyn felt a brief falling sensation as the Eluvian righted them to step out onto the island where the Qunari had their camp. Mildly disoriented, Evelyn clutched Cole's hand, waiting for her head to catch up with the rest of her body.

They were surrounded by dozens of Qunari. They were spread out among the shelves of books, all brandishing weapons and snarling, but none attacked. Directly ahead of them was a fountain that flowed into a large shallow pool of water. In the water near the fountain stood another saarebas. As Evelyn took a head count of the threat, from the tall dais to her left, a deep feminine voice spoke in an angry tone. “Survivor of the Breach. Herald of change. Hero of the South.” Evelyn slowly turned her head to get a look at the woman. She wore the ropes and cloth, typical of Qunari, with little covering her upper body. Her horns were small compared to some Qunari, but she wore them well. Too bad Sera wasn't here to see this. She would have been enraptured, having developed a mild obsession with Qunari females after befriending Bull. The sour look on her face ruined any chance she had to be pretty. She was flanked by a great mountain of a Qunari that paced with caged fury, collared and bound like a Saarebas.

“The Viddasala, I presume,” Evelyn said loudly, her voice carrying over the natural hum of the Fade. She crossed her arms, her left hand still balled in a fist.

The Qunari sneered. “After fulfilling your purpose at the Breach, it is astounding to hear you still walked free among your people. Your duty is done, Inquisitor. It is time to end your magic.”

“The Anchor repairs tears in the Veil. I would think you'd approve if that,” Evelyn retorted.

“Is that all it does?” she asked skeptically. “Tell me, why hold your hand as if it has begun to pain you? I am no stranger to catastrophe, but this chaos in the South defies comprehension. The Qun left your people to curb your own magic. You've amply proven we should have stepped in long ago.”

“Is that what 'Dragons Breath' is for? Murdering our heads of state just to control our magic?” Evelyn gasped.

“Do you believe closing the Breach solved everything, that it's consequences stopped there?” the Viddasala demanded. “The day we saw the Breach, the Qun decided it's action. We would remove your leaders and spare those who toil. This agent of Fen'Harel has disrupted everything. Lives that were to be spared, lost for him!”

“Who is this agent?” Evelyn asked with a frown. “Why would you think they work for the Inquisition?”

The Viddasala did not answer. Instead, she turned and with a sneer said, “Kill the Inquisitor, then follow me to the Darvaarad.” Then she disappeared through an Eluvian followed by the biggest saarebas that Evelyn had ever seen.

The remaining Qunari descended upon them and they had to fight their way through the small army while watching out for the magic of the saarebas. Evelyn was starting to feel the strain on her mana reserves, but she refused to take a draught of Lyrium. It was inadvisable when one was pregnant because of the risk of addiction, in case the child was not a mage. _Like it really matters anyway_ , she caught herself thinking as she discharged the anchor with a grunt, knocking the group of Qunari away from her. Then she slipped her staff along the ground and kept them at bay with a wall of ice. They pounded their giant fists on the shards of ice, slowly cracking through them as she prepared more spells.

By the end of the fight, Evelyn was spent. They had been hours in the Fade and it had already been getting dark before they left. She was exhausted, but she drew herself up and coiled what little mana she had left back into her chest so it could replenish naturally. Another of the pieces of study awaited them on the dais above the fountain. There was no way to reach the Eluvian that the Viddasala had gone through without a ladder, but there was another behind the spirit. It urged them to look around and find more information, so that is what they did. Evelyn shuffled around the large camp finding papers and notes strewn all over. They found that they Qunari had translated their letters because they had non Qunari spies posted just about everywhere. She also discovered that the Viddasala had brought the saarebas to this place to research strengthening the veil. Bull decided to search the bodies of the slain Qunari and he discovered a strange stone that hummed with magic on the body of the saarebas. Evelyn took the key from him and studied it, with Dorian over her shoulder. It was definitely magical, but neither of them knew what it was. She carefully pocketed it for later and approached the spirit again. “Can you tell me where the Qunari called the Viddasala went?” she asked gently as the spirit hovered excitedly before her.

“Yes. We heard much, although she fooled herself into thinking we could not hear. 'Take a keystone to the Darvaarad. I will join you there soon, and take stock of our remaining gaatlock powder'.”

Evelyn took the stone from her pocket and held it up. “Is this one of the keystones?”

“Yes. And you need words for their key. 'Maraas nehraa'. It glows. It will open the way to the Darvaarad. May you find what you seek. In coming here, you strengthened the paths. I can now raise one if you wish to go.”

“You've been very helpful...uh...” Evelyn said as the stones surrounding them lifted up and floated behind the spirit to create a path to the Eluvian.

“Ghil-Dirthalen,” the spirit offered it's name. “was what the elvhen called me. 'One who guides seekers of knowledge true'. I was _connection._ One city could read the records of another, one elvhen feel the memories of another. When the veil fell upon us, I marked the end of all they knew.” The spirit Faded and Evelyn and her people walked the path to the Eluvian. It led them out to where the original study had met them. They went as quickly as Evelyn could walk in her weary state. The urgency to get to the Darvaarad and finish this mess pushing her forward with the steady throb of her hand.

 

She was pacing again, across from the others while they predictably debated and argued. “Your agents confirm there are gaatlock barrels in Denerim's palace?” Josephine asked Leliana.

“Yes, and in Val Royeaux, and across the Free Marches. The Winter Palace is not the only target,” Leliana confirmed with a nod.

The Qunari are one order from destroying every noble house in the known world,” Cullen sighed, his eyes following her with concern.

“There is a bright side,” Josephine said with mild positivity. “Warning the ambassadors will remind them of the Inquisition's value.”

“Not when the Inquisition is responsible for the threat,” Leliana said, shaking her head.

Evelyn nearly crumbled. Leliana was never wrong. “This was our fault...” she said, maintaining her small nervous circles her fist clenched against the throbbing.

“Fault, no.” Leliana corrected. “But our responsibility.”

Evelyn sighed. “How did it happen?”

“The elven servant handling the barrels confessed to working for the Qunari,” She explained.

“But the servant was Orlesian,” Josephine said with a frown. “That implicates Orlais, not us.”

“But the barrels arrived at the Winter Palace on the Inquisition's supply manifest.” Leliana continued.

Cullen dropped his gaze and sighed. “How are we supposed to fight a war when we can't even trust our own people?”

“Do you know who got the barrels onto the Inquisition's manifest?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes, Leliana said excitedly. “Several of the Inquisition's elven workers have gone missing. I had their backgrounds checked. They joined the Inquisition after fleeing the chaos in Kirkwall.”

“I remember when Kirkwall was at it's worst,” Cullen growled. “Many of the city's elves converted to the Qun, trying to find a better life.”

“And the Qunari turned them into spies,” Josephine concluded with a gasp.

Evelyn stopped pacing and used her throbbing fist to punch the table. “A few years ago, we railed at the mages at Redcliffe for becoming corrupt. We did the same to the Grey Wardens...” She snorted angrily, shaking her head. “Look at us now.”

Josephine looked at her angrily. “I fought to protect the Inquisition in this Exalted Council, and for what? So we could deceive and threaten those we claimed to protect?”

“Once we locate the spies...” Cullen said gently.

“This isn't _about_ the spies!” Josephine shouted, her voice wavering. “You hid the Qunari body. You've all but seized control of the Winter Palace!”

“We did what was right, not what was politically convenient!” Cullen shouted back.

“Do you know what his had cost us with Orlais and Ferelden? They are planning to dismantle us as we speak!” Josephine growled. Then she hung her head. “And perhaps they are right...”

Before the argument could go further, the anchor flared, blinding Evelyn temporarily as her legs nearly gave out from under her. A ragged cry escaped her throat and she whimpered, grabbing hold of the out of control limb with her opposite arm and hugging it to her chest. Her advisers all rounded the desk, terror in Cullen's eyes. She had hoped to keep the anchor a secret as long as possible while they fought this battle with the Viddasala, but apparently it had other ideas, glowing brightly and sparking momentarily before fading beck into the numbing throb that she had become accustomed to. It angered her as her friends, her husband, looked at her with pity and fear. “Shit! Damn it!” she shouted, whirling to punch the wall before turning back to them. “We save Ferelden, and they're angry! We save Orlais, and they're angry! We close the Breach, _twice..._ and my own hand wants to kill me! Could one thing in this fucking world just stay fixed!?” She breathed in and out, her heart racing with her own terror. “I need to get to the Darvaarad. You all can fight amongst yourselves once I'm...” she almost said dead, but the pain on Cullen's face changed her mind and she softened her tone. “Once I'm back,” she finished with a sigh.

Cullen came to her then, wrapping his comforting arms around her. Her heart shattered. She was being so unfair to him. She should have told him long ago. Now it was too late. There was nothing to be done. She fell into his embrace, barely biting back her tears as she buried her face in his neck. Even after his nearly complete recovery from the Lyrium, he still smelled of petrichor. She breathed him in, the one scent that never turned her stomach. She felt deflated and spent. She was tired and broken, but still she would fight.

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Leliana said meekly Evelyn looked at her over Cullen's shoulder and her own eyes were glistening.

“Would you... would you like us to inform the Exalted Council of the danger?” Josephine asked, her lip quivering and her eyes wide.

Evelyn reluctantly pulled away from Cullen's grasp, momentarily feeling his arms tighten as if he weren't going to let her go. She didn't want to look at his face. It might just break her the rest of the way. Instead, she took hold of his hands and sighed, her eyes pointedly elsewhere. She cleared her throat, swallowing her burning emotions. “Yes. If we fail, the Exalted Council needs to know what happened.”

“I will inform them personally,” Leliana said softly.

“Leliana, I can...” Josephine offered.

“No. Your job is hard enough already. This is my responsibility,” Leliana insisted.

Cullen cleared his throat, his voice shaky when he spoke. “I'll have guards ready at the Eluvian, in case the Qunari attack the palace.”

“Maker watch over you,” Leliana said sadly as Evelyn gently squeezed Cullen's hands and then extricated herself to prepare. She had no doubt that he would be one of the guard personally waiting outside the Eluvian for her return. She prayed he would not follow her and try to comfort her. She needed to be strong. She wrapped her arms protectively around her stomach as she walked back to where her companions were waiting for her, trying not to cry. This was not the time.

 

Once they were in the Crossroads, Evelyn pulled the keystone from her pocket and followed the humming magic to a nearby Eluvian. “The Darvaarad... All right, everyone. Get ready,” she said holding up the keystone and then mumbling the words that the spirit had given her. The Eluvian flared to life and Evelyn stepped aside to allow Bull to pass through, not that his going first much mattered anymore. The other side resembled a cemetery for broken Eluvians. Smashed glass and dented frames were littered all around. “The sooner we stop this invasion plan, the better,” Evelyn sneered, glancing upwards at the massive statue of a naked female Qunari, brandishing a spear. She made her way down the flight of stairs before her that led to a battlement that crossed to what seemed to be the main base for the Qunari. They must have traveled all the way to Par Vollen itself, judging by the stifling humidity. It was night there too. Glass crunched under Evelyn's boots inevitably announcing their presence to a group of Qunari a short distance away on the opposite side of the crossing. As a saarebas littered the area with lightning bolts that burned her nostrils as they created scorch marks wherever they struck, she discharged the anchor to protect herself and the others temporarily. The charge of the mark was coming faster now. Nearly filling up her senses with a grinding overabundance of power that was getting more difficult to keep in check.

When they'd fought their way through, she was nearly jogging to cross the bridge. Midway across the anchor flared again almost tripping her and dropping her to her knees. She only maintained her balance with Dorian's help. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently.

“We should hurry,” she said past a lump in her throat.

As they continued forward, Bull grumbled. Evelyn saw more Qunari running to greet them and used her magic to explode some gaatlock barrels as they ran past, killing the aggressors. “I wish I could say I'm surprised that Viddasala wants to murder everyone, but it makes sense,” Bull sighed. “We tell stories about how corrupt the South is. Who wouldn't want to kill the evil nobles and save the people?” Up a tall staircase and past some more imposing naked statues, Bull grabbed her arm and held her back from her jog. “Watch the patrol. You want to take them out one at a time, fast, or we'll have a mess on our hands.”

Evelyn nodded to Cole who immediately disappeared, leaving them for a whole five minutes while she fidgeted. When he reappeared, he had taken care of all of the guards between them and the front door and even brought her a key. “It will help to get us inside,” he said softly. At the guard tower, there was a huge door that reminded her of the one in the circle that had housed the phylacteries of all the mages. She and Dorian put their heads together to figure out how the three wheels worked. When she turned the first one in the middle, a large thick metal shaft lifted to unblock the top of the door “Yes! Do the thing to the other thing!” Cole said excitedly then sheepishly wrung his hands. “Sorry. I'm not good with things that don't have feelings.”

She turned it three times and the bar lifted free. When she turned the mechanism on the far right, the right bar moved to the side, but it dragged the left bar further over the door. She turned it so the right bar was free and then Dorian turned the left mechanism. It fixed the left bar, but pulled the top one back down. She urged him to continue until the left bar was free and then she turned the middle one again, lifting the locks all free. “It's open, Let's go,” she said, immediately leaving the gatehouse and rushing forward. Inside they found the Qunari's barracks, full of soldiers. Evelyn took the opportunity to explode some more gaatlock. The Qunari really should have been more careful in where they stored that stuff. Every barrel she found, she either dismantled or used it against them.

Down a long hall that led to a small dungeon, they were assaulted again. In the middle of the fight, the anchor flared again and she bit back the pain and discharged it, relieving the built up magic. Cole gripped her arm. “It's the Veil. It wants to be back, but it's trapped on you. I don't know how to help!” He was panting with fear and helplessness.

“It's okay,” she said. “I understand Cole. It's not your fault.” They passed by a study that was filled to the brim with books and magical artifacts. Evelyn frowned. “Morrigan said the key to an eluvian could be anything, including knowledge or power. So they're stockpiling both. That's how they got the keystone and opened so many of the Eluvians we've seen.”

“Hopefully they don't have any more ancient magic crap to throw at us,” Bull grumbled. Then he cocked his head and grinned. “That dragon skull would make a wicked armchair, though. Maybe we could take it back to Skyhold after this?”

How overly optimistic of him. At the end of the hall past the dungeons, a huge wooden doorway opened into what looked like it might have been kitchens at one point. It was currently storing mass amounts of gaatlock. There were only a few Qunari at the far end of the room and they hadn't heard them enter. Evelyn crouched down and saw that the Qunari had good reason to be distracted. Through a window on the other side of the room, Evelyn saw a huge dragon bound and chained, being tortured by the Qunari. She gasped. “ 'Dragon's Breath' is... an actual dragon!”

At her exclamation, one of the Qunari turned. “Teth a! Bas!” he shouted.

A door above them on the left at the top of a set of stairs opened and the Viddasala stepped through. “Inquisition!” she shouted as she recognized them. “Nehran Ataashi-asaara meravas adim kata!” The soldiers all began to march toward them and the Viddasala looked to Bull. “Hissrad, now! Please! Vinek Kathas!”

Bull laughed out loud. “Not a chance, ma'am.”

Evelyn quickly and carefully mapped out the gaatlock barrels. Certain that none near them would detonate, she sparked a chain lightening spell, striking each group of barrels near the approaching Qunari. The detonations took about almost a third of the Qunari. When Evelyn looked up, the Viddasala had vanished. Evelyn cursed and began to cast as quickly as she could to help the others to remove the rest of the threat. She was still exhausted, but adrenaline was forcing her forward, fear making her spells all that much more potent. She began to hear spirits pressing against the veil, offering her more power if she would let them in. She squashed the voices of the demons and fought to maintain control of both her spells and the anchor. As the Qunari pushed the line, she shouted angrily and discharged the anchor, throwing the horde against the walls, cracking a few skulls and crippling one to a broken neck. She was well and truly pissed. Bull breathed heavily as the last Qunari fell. “Are you all right?” Dorian asked him softly.

“Never better, Kadan,” Bull said with a huge grin at his lover.

For once, his affection was not returned with scorn, but an actual smile. “Glad to hear it... Amatus.”

They shared a brief but tender hug and Evelyn's heart melted. They deserved happiness. Dorian especially after everything he had suffered in the last three years. Cole tugged on Evelyn's sleeve and indicated the dragon in the next room. “She's scared. She doesn't want to be here. They hurt her.”

Evelyn's eyes shot to the dragon as it shrieked in terror, trying to stomp on the Qunari who got close. Small clouds of venomous smoke poured from her mouth, but Evelyn could tell that she had been nearly bled dry of her precious poison defense. Evelyn raced from the storage room and up the stairs to the chamber. Nothing was going to stop her from releasing that dragon. Cole flitted along beside her, Bull and Dorian at the rear. “Are we going to fight this dragon or what?” Bull asked in alarm as Evelyn outpaced him, directly into danger.

She ignored his question and surveyed the room, her quick eyes seeing that the dragon was contained by a ring of flames that spurted from the ground on tracks of metal tubing strong enough to withstand the heat. Around the room, there were several wheels that she observed spinning fire around the tracks as the dragon moved. “Distract her, _Don't_ kill her!” Evelyn ordered, blasting herself a path through the Qunari on the wheel platforms to open her a path to the large barred doorway on the other side of the room. It opened out into freedom. Evelyn charged a Qunari, knocking him down with a stone fist and then bashing his head with her staff. She stepped over his body and began to painstakingly turn the wheel. It caught at a quarter turn and she growled in frustration and noticed there was debris blocking it's path. She vaulted over the wall and dropped into the pit with the dragon. Luckily it's back was to her and she raced to the obstruction. There was no way she could lift the heavy planks and barrels that sat in the path of the tracks.

“Evelyn, are you mad! What are you doing?” Dorian cried out as he noticed her down there.

“Stay back!” she called, preparing to discharge the anchor. “Keep her off my ass!” As it was, Evelyn had to roll out of the way as the dragon swiped her tail near where she stood.

A stream of Tevinter curses echoed through the room as Dorian began to shout at the dragon, throwing small bolts of energy from his palms to grab her attention. Evelyn discharged the mark and the debris thankfully was thrown from the tracks. She sprinted away from the battle, her lungs burning as she breathed in some of the dragon's breath. Back on the platform, she rushed to the wheel that had been obstructed and began to turn it again. The flames blessedly rotated, piling up on each other on the platform side of the room, leaving the dragon a path out. Evelyn left the platform again and Fade stepped across the chaos of the pit to a lever by the barred doorway. She lifted it up, putting her back into lifting the heavy door. The bottom half of the door slid into the floor and Evelyn spotted another lever on the opposite side of the door. She Fade stepped again and did the same as the opposite side. The top of the door lifted with a clatter. The dragon spun and realized she was free. She roared loudly, stomping on a Qunari as she spun her huge body and bounded for the open door. Evelyn pressed herself against the wall to get out of the way of the great wings as they unfurled. Terrified Qunari fled out the door and Evelyn peered around the opening to see what was happening. The dragon grabbed up two of the Qunari in her front claws as she took off into the sky, dropping them to splat on the battlement right in front of another group of Qunari who hovered in front on an eluvian with the Viddasala and her pet saarebas.

Evelyn watched the dragon fly off and then with her people right behind her, dashed off across the battlement. The Viddasala shouted. “Parshaara!” The Qunari surrounding her all pointed their spears at her and she stopped dead in her tracks, scowling at the woman. She didn't get a chance to be angry as her mark began to spark and burn, her hand jutting out before her and shaking uncontrollably. She gritted her teeth against the agony as the Viddasala tsked. “Dear Inquisitor, you have such little time left. You must finally see the truth. Elven magic already tore the sky apart. If the agents of Fen'Harel are not stopped, you will shatter the world as well.”

“Whatever you think I've done, mass assassination isn't a good moral high ground!” Evelyn shouted through gritted teeth.

“The South was poisoned by these elves' manipulations. It suffers just as you do now. You would have died from the mark on your hand, but for the help of one of their chief agents,” the Viddasala said by way of explanation. As she spoke her men began to disperse, all going through the eluvian one at a time. “The same agent who helped seal the Breach. Who led you to Skyhold. Who gave Corypheus the orb, then founded the Inquisition. Solas... agent of Fen'Harel.”

Everything fell into place as Evelyn gasped, the words choking out of her throat. “Solas... is an agent of Fen'Harel?”

The Viddasala cocked her head. “Did you not know? We thought you were his ally... Solas tricked us all. _He_ pushed a dying Qunari into the Winter Palace, to lure you into opposing us. Without him, we would have brought the South peace and wisdom along the gentle path. Now we must take the way of blades.” The anchor flared again and only the Viddasala and the saarebas were left. Evelyn was jerked to her knees and she clutched her arm, a whimper escaping her throat. The Viddasala nodded. “Panahedan, Inquisitor. If it is any consolation, Solas will not outlive you.”

As Evelyn felt the pain fading, she gulped in a breath and the Viddasala and her pet left through the Eluvian. Her heart was racing and panic setting in. She didn't have long. Dorian knelt beside her, his hand on her back and Cole hovered on the other side. “Solas is the only one who can help with my mark...” she used her staff to crawl to her feet. “We find him before Viddasala does.”

It was a spark of hope that pushed her ahead. Perhaps she could save this yet. Even if not forever, long enough to save her daughter. “Come on!” Bull shouted as he headed into the mirror. “The Viddasala can't be too far ahead.”

Evelyn pushed ahead of him, her determination driving her to hurry. She would fight to her last breath if she needed to. They were thrown into a overgrown path that was definitely of elven architecture. She didn't stop to survey the scenery as she began to climb the staircase. At a flooded landing in the middle of the stairs, the mark took on a mind of it's own, nearly yanking her arm from it's socket, she yanked it back towards her and dropped to her knees with a shouted warning. “It's going to... Everyone back!” The mark exploded with a pulse of overcharged magic, knocking her friends away from her and sparking currents of pain on every nerve ending in her body. It seemed she could no longer contain it when it over flowed. She would need to keep a closer eye on it. She dragged herself to her feet.

“That can't be healthy,” Dorian said shakily as he and Cole both rushed to her side again. “Perhaps Solas can help.”

“Solas doesn't want to hurt people. He isn't that kind if wolf. The Qunari don't see,” Cole remarked in frustration.

Further along the path, they came across another Eluvian guarded by Qunari. Apparently the Viddasala was going to place her entire army between Evelyn and herself. Evelyn was weak and tired, stretched thin, but when the anchor nearly melted down again, she was able to catch it before hand with a controlled discharge that took a lot of her strength, but it hurt less and she was able to keep if from damaging her friends. The Qunari, on the other hand, never stood a chance.

The Eluvian deposited them in a gully full of Qunari with another eluvian across the way. The giant saarebas was in front of the mirror looking terrifying. “There!” Cole shouted. “He can't be far from her or it hurts him!”

Shouted orders from the other side of the mirror placed the Viddasala just across the threshold. Evelyn crouched down and discharged the anchor as the saarebas disappeared after her. Evelyn gave chase, smoking Qunari bodies all around her. She would kill them all to get to Solas if that was how the Viddasala wanted it. Across an impossibly long bridge she followed the Qunari. Dorian watching her warily, but Cole a shadow at her side, touching her constantly to 'talk' to her daughter. It was reassuring that she was in no danger, but it also continuously brought the thoughts and guilt all rushing back.

They were assaulted by hundreds of Qunari along the way and with the help from the mark, Evelyn wasted no time in decimating their ranks. She was a woman on a mission. Nothing was going to stop her. Through the Eluvian at the end of the bridge, Evelyn heard the Viddasala issuing orders. “Saarebas! Meravas adim kata!”

Cole gasped as the gigantic Qunari took a magic assisted leap into the air. “He's coming to stop us!” When he hit the ground, the blast of magic knocked them all backwards. Evelyn landed hard, skidding through the dirt and stopping when her head connected with a toppled arch. Her vision swam and she had no time to get back up before the anchor had a meltdown. Luckily for her, Saarebas had charged directly for her. She cried out as she was lifted from the ground with the force of the magic as huge sparks of Fade magic arched from her palm, striking anything in their path and setting small fires around the courtyard. The anchor exploded with a crack and Saarebas was caught in the radius. When the magic Faded, she dropped out of the air and her ankle twisted as she hit the ground. Rolling to take the pressure from the limb, she fell in a heap on her side. Bull was on the Saarebas in seconds, bashing it in the face with his hammer. It had some protection with the giant collar around its neck. The sound rang out across the field, shocking Evelyn from her stupor. Her shoulder twinged like it had been dislocated and her ankle was definitely broken. She planted her staff with her good arm and pulled herself to her feet with her good leg. Placing all of her weight on the ankle that was not lacing agony through her body, she began to cast, helping Bull as best she could while short an arm. Casting was difficult without all of your fingers. Dorian was holding off the rest of the Qunari that were guarding the Viddasala's escape and Cole flitted between them all, thousands of red cuts from his daggers showing his involvement. The anchor began to protest again and she leaned heavily on her staff to draw the magic inward to discharge it with focus in the direction of the Saarebas. Evelyn felt herself flagging as blood leaked from the wound in the back of her head. She managed to shout before she dropped back to her knees. Dorian was at her side in seconds as Cole took over holding back the masses. “Please tell me you have a healing draught,” she whimpered as he knelt beside her, his barrier caressing over her skin.

He fiddled on his belt and came back with one of the red potions. “Where are you hurt?”

She snorted, “Everywhere. My nerve endings are on fire.”

He pressed his lips together and glanced around to check their perimeter to be sure they were still alone. “That's not what I meant,” he said gruffly, his mustache twitching in irritation.

She sighed. “Take your pick. My ankle's broken, my shoulder is out of the socket and I smacked my head on that stone.”

When he turned his head once more to check the progress of the battle, she saw he was bleeding as well from a gash near his left ear. They were all pretty banged up now that she was looking. His right eye was slightly puffy and he was breathing heavily as if it was hurting him to do so. Bull had several open wounds and burns on his exposed chest. Cole was limping slightly and his blonde hair was matted with blood at the back of his neck. “Hold still,” Dorian advised as his hands glowed a soft blue and he drew on his healing magic. “I'll patch you up and then you can take the potion.”

“What about you and the others?” she worried.

He smiled sweetly and knuckled her chin. “We're all still standing, sweetheart.”

She nodded. “Hurry. I don't know how long before the anchor melts down again. I'll need to discharge it soon.”

He ran expert hands over her ankle, painfully grinding the bone back into place as soothing healing magic helped her muscles to realign and the tears to knit together. She breathed a sigh of relief as he tended to her head next. “Luckily your skull wasn't cracked,” he mused, glancing around again, his barrier reinforcing itself. The skin knitted itself together and the trickling of blood stopped tickling her neck. Finally, he moved to her shoulder. “I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to bite down on,” he said apologetically.

“Just hurry,” she warned. “I can feel it building up.”

He pressed his opposite hand on her chest and took hold of the joint, feeling for the dislocation. She hissed in pain as he squeezed and then he counted slowly to three before wrenching the shoulder forward. She felt the ball pop back into place and she sighed in relief as he laid some more healing into the shoulder. “Now take the potion, and do be careful.”

“Thank you,” she said, uncorking the bottle with shaky fingers and gulping down the elfroot potion.

Immediately, she stood and focused her energy on discharging the anchor. Saarebas was the only Qunari left in the courtyard and he was surrounded by Bull and Cole. She slammed the anchor's energy into him and he roared as best he could with his sewn lips. He gripped his collar with both hands and physically ripped the metal in two. “It seems the Saarebas is no longer following orders,” Dorian said as the giant turned and ran toward where the Viddasala had disappeared.

“We need to go after him,” Evelyn insisted, a small limp still present in her gait, but her ankle feeling much better after Dorian's careful ministrations.

“Are you sure you're okay, boss?” Bull asked.

“As good as I'm going to get,” she remarked, not stopping. She needed to end this.

The Viddasala was almost out of soldiers. When Evelyn caught up with her, She shouted as she followed the last of her people through an Eluvian. “You are dead, Inquisitor! Your soul is dust!”

The Saarebas dropped in from the sky, knocking then all back again. Bull was behind Evelyn and he caught her, cradling her with his body as they fell. He grunted and let her up. “I'm good boss... And so are you. Now go... your mark is sparking.” Evelyn rushed back toward the Saarebas and discharged the mark, as the others regained their footing. They all fought against the giant Qunari in tandem. He was strong and his magic was unlike anything Evelyn had ever seen, but they managed to finally get him onto his knees where Cole slashed at his throat and Bull smashed his head with his hammer.

Evelyn didn't even stop to catch her breath. She turned and ran for the Eluvian. As soon as she passed through it, the mirror slammed closed behind her, stranding her alone. When she saw it go dark, her heart stopped. How? She turned to make sure she was safe from the Qunari, and jumped back with a gasp when she saw a foot soldier towering over her with his spear raised. She frowned, realizing that it was not actually a Qunari but a statue. It was so lifelike that she had believed it was real. She stepped up and touched the stone and it was warm. She snatched her hand away as she realized that it was so lifelike because he had been petrified. Magic at work. Upon further inspection, there were several Qunari in the same predicament all around. She weaved in and out of the statues and marveled. It had been an extremely powerful mage who had done this. There were dozens. As she hit the bottom of a staircase, she heard an all too familiar voice, speaking in Qunlat. “Ebasit kata. Itwa-ost.”

She took off at a run up the stairs, her heart pounding as the Viddasala answered. “Maraas kata!”

“Your forces have failed. Leave now, and tell the Qunari to trouble me no further,” Solas said softly, the threat palpable. Could he have been the one to have done all this?

She crested the stairs as he turned away, ready to ignore the Viddasala. He was dressed in the armor of the ancient elves from Mythal's temple. A thick pelt was draped over his right shoulder, tucked on both ends into his belt to keep it in place. Paper thin metal pauldrons and gauntlets covered his arms and shoulders. The Viddasala let out an angered growl and lifted her spear to impale him, but before she could make the move, she turned to stone. Evelyn gaped as Solas began to walk away toward an Eluvian ahead of him. “Solas!” she called out, following after him at a jog.

He paused, his shoulders hunching as he recognized her voice. He turned to look at her over the fur on his shoulder. The mark began to flare and she fell to her knees, gritting her teeth. He turned an apologetic look on her and turned the rest of his body to approach her. With his hands clasped firmly behind his back, his eyes flared like sparks of blue magic, his head tipping slightly and the anchor simply stopped. She looked in awe down at her hand as all sensation ceased. “That should give us more time,” he said softly, helping her to her feet. “I suspect you have questions.”

 _Damn skippy_. Evelyn thought, her heart still going a mile a minute. She started off with the obvious question. “How were you able to control the anchor?”

“In the same way as when I stopped it from killing you at Haven... although I am stronger now,” he said with a grin. She glanced around at the dozens of stone Qunari. _Yeah, no shit._ “The mark you bear was bestowed upon you by the Orb of Fen'Harel. My orb.”

All of the pieces clicked into place. “You're Fen'Harel,” she stated. She had seen Mythal in the flesh. Why not Fen'Harel?

“I was Solas first,” he said with a gentle tip of his head. “ 'Fen'Harel', came later... an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies... not unlike 'Inquisitor', I suppose. You also know the burden of a title that all but replaces your name.”

Her eyes studied him, wondering. “Are you a fragment of what Fen'Harel once was, like Mythal?”

“No,” he said, a wash of sadness making his lips turn downwards. “This is all I have ever been.”

“And the legends?” she asked, wondering which were true and which weren't.

“I sought to set my people free from slavery to would-be gods. I broke the chains of all who wished to join me.” He strolled away slowly and she followed. Up the path, opened up a view of a massive, mostly intact castle built into the side of a nearby mountain. He continued as she marveled at the architecture. “The false gods called me Fen'Harel, and when they finally went too far, I formed the veil and banished them forever. Thus I freed the elven people and, in so doing, destroyed their world.”

“How _did_ creating the veil destroy the world?” she asked, thirsty for more knowledge about everything she had learned in the Vir Dirthara.

“You saw the remains of Vir Dirthara. The library was intrinsically tied to the Fade, and the veil destroyed it,” he explained. “There were countless other marvels, all dependent on the presence of the Fade, all destroyed. The elven legends of immortality? All true. It was not the arrival of humans that caused them to begin aging. It was _me_. The veil took everything from the elves, even themselves.”

“You love the Fade,” Evelyn said sadly, wondering what could have made him do what he did. “Why would you create the veil to hide it all away?”

“Because every alternative was worse,” he sighed, his expression pained.

“Meaning?” she asked with a shrug.

“Had I not created the veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world,” he said.

“You said that the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them?”

Solas chuckled wryly. “They killed Mythal. A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.”

“I thought Mythal was one of the Evanuris...”

“She was the best of them,” he agreed with a nod. “She cared for her people. She protected them. She was a voice of reason. And in their lust for power, they killed her.”

Evelyn shook her head, all of the new information bouncing around and getting discussed by the spirits from the Well. “The Evanuris were elven mages? How did they come to be remembered as gods?”

“Slowly,” he grinned. “It started with a war... War breeds fear. Fear breeds a desire for simplicity. Good and Evil. Right and wrong. Chains of command. After the war ended, generals became respected elders, then kings, and finally gods. The Evanuris.”

“So, you banished the false gods... you didn't kill them?” she asked with a frown.

“You met Mythal, did you not? The first of my people do not die so easily. The Evanuris are banished forever, paying the ultimate price for their misdeeds.”

“That's the past,” Evelyn said softly, touching his arm carefully. “What about the future?”

He sighed and pulled away from her. “I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke, still weak, a year before I joined you. My people fell for what I did to strike the Evanuris down, but still, some hope remains for restoration,” he explained, his arms encompassing the beautiful architecture that was still standing around them. “I will save the elven people, even if it means _this_ world must die.”

Her eyes widened as he walked away from her, unable to look her in the eyes as he casually threatened the existence of Thedas. “Why does this world have to die for the elves to return?”

“A good question. But not one I will answer. You have always shown a thoughtfulness I respected. It would be too easy to tell you too much,” he said with a deep sigh. “I am not Corypheus. I take no joy in this. But the return of my people means the end of yours. It is my fight. You should be more concerned about the Inquisition. Your Inquisition.” He turned to glance at her again. “In stopping the Dragon's Breath, you have prevented an invasion by Qunari forces. With luck, they will return their focus to Tevinter. That should give you a few years of relative peace.”

She crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “The Qunari said the Inquisition was unknowingly working for agents of Fen'Harel.”

“I gave no orders,” he said with a shrug.

“You led us to Skyhold.”

“Corypheus should have died unlocking my orb. When he survived, my plans were thrown into chaos. When _you_ survived, I saw the Inquisition as the best hope this world had of stopping him. And you needed a home. Hence Skyhold.”

“You gave your orb to Corypheus...” she said, leading him for an answer to that madness.

“Not directly. My agents allowed the Venatori to locate it. The orb had built up magical energy while I lay unconscious for millennia. I was not powerful enough to open it. The plan was for Corypheus to unlock it, and for the resulting explosion to kill him. Then I would claim the orb.” He hung his head in shame. “I did not foresee a Tevinter Magister having learned the secret of effective immortality.”

“What would have happened if Corypheus had died and you'd recovered the orb?” she asked, her chest tight as she thought of the implications.

“I would have entered the Fade using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the veil,” he said cooly. “As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time... The world of the elves.”

She didn't understand. “If you destroyed the veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?”

“I had plans...” was all he said.

She cocked her head and frowned. “So at least some of the stories about the Dread Wolf are true.”

He matched her frown. “I did not lead a rebellion against immortal mage-kings without getting my hands bloody... You must understand. I awoke in a world where the veil had blocked most people's conscious connection to the Fade. It was like walking through a world of tranquil.”

“We aren't even people to you?” she asked her arms wrapping around her waist as a chill ran down her back. This was not the Solas she knew.

“Not at first,” he said quickly. “You showed me that I was wrong... again. That does not make what must come next any easier.”

She sighed heavily, her hands shaking. “Whatever your reasons, we couldn't have defeated Corypheus without you.”

“Your doubts are misplaced,” he said with a warm smile. “Everything you accomplished, you earned.”

“So, what's wrong with the Inquisition? Why should I be concerned?” she asked.

“You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption...”

“It's not that simple,” she shook her head.

“Do you know how I discovered the Qunari plot? The plot I disrupted by leading them to your doorstep? The Qunari spies in the Inquisition tripped over _my_ spies in the Inquisition. The elven guard who led you to the Qunari body, who intercepted the servant with the gaatlock barrel? Mine.”

Evelyn snorted. “Why bother disrupting the Qunari plot, if you're going to destroy the world regardless?”

“You have shown me that there is value in this world, Inquisitor. I take no joy in what I must do... Until that day comes, I would see those recovering from the Breach free of the Qun,” he said with sympathy.

“Why?” she wondered.

“Because I am not a monster. If they must die, I would rather they die in comfort. In any event, it is done.”

Evelyn shrugged and sighed. “I guess we owe you for that one, too.”

“I hope it gives your people some final peace,” he said with a nod.

She glanced behind him at the glowing eluvian and thought of the one that had slammed closed behind her. The others must have been having heart attacks on the other side unable to get to her. “So you control the eluvians now?”

“Yes. You remember Briala from Halamshiral? For a time, she controlled part of the Labyrinth. One of my agents was supposed to take it from her, but he did not succeed. I had to override the magic personally. The Qunari stumbled upon this section independently. With them gone, the eluvians are now mine.”

Evelyn was quiet for a short time, processing everything. Her mind was in shock. She glanced down at her hand where the anchor still glowed, temporarily held at bay by Solas' magic. She could already feel the tingling returning. She flexed her fingers and thought of her future. Cullen and their baby. “There's still the matter of the anchor. It's getting worse.”

“Yes,” he said, his expression falling into genuine remorse and sadness. “I'm sorry. And we are almost out of time.” As if he could feel her discomfort, he looked to her, his eyes widening and the anchor burst out from under his magic. It yanked her legs out from under her again and she cried out, clutching the burning and stinging pain to her chest. Solas crouched before her. “The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you... at least for now.”

She looked up at him through the pain. “You don't need to destroy this world. I'll prove it to you,” she swore.

He stood with a bitter smile and his words came out in a whisper as he held out his hand. “I would treasure the chance to be wrong once again, my friend. Take my hand.”

She reached out with the anchor, resting her fist in his hand. The magic shot up and down her arm, the ringing in her ears and the throbbing of her jaw numbing her mind. Solas pulled her arm out to the side and she almost didn't hear his whispered apology. He lifted his free hand, his fingers casting. Then he balled it into a fist and her hand went numb again. The magic still sparked, but her fingertips began to turn a grayish color.

He gave her one last sorrowful look and said, “Live well, while time remains.”

She got to her feet, the graying skin beginning to creep up her arm. She wanted to chase after him, but he slipped through the Eluvian and it closed behind him. She staggered back down the stairs to where she had come in, icy fire scorching her fingers. Whatever he had done, thankfully, it was slow moving. The eluvian was still closed when she reached it and she cried out in frustration, banging against the glass with her good hand. Suddenly, she fell through, the eluvian activating while she was leaning on it. She exclaimed as she fell forward, tripping over the base of the mirror and rolling out into the field where they had killed the Saarebas. Dorian and Bull were arguing loudly as she sat up, unable to support herself on the hand that looked as if it were slowly turning to stone. “She could be dead for all we know! Why didn't you stop her?”

“She was too fast,” Bull roared. “One second she was there and then she wasn't.”

“Stop it!” Cole said quietly, hugging himself like a child whose parents were fighting in front of him.

“Hello boys,” Evelyn managed to croak as she limped toward them.

“Sweet Maker,” Dorian gasped as he ran for her. “Are you...? What happened?”

“Fen'Harel happened,” she explained as he allowed her to rest her weight on him. “It's Solas. He's Fen'Harel.”

Dorian lifted her hand and studied the now only lightly crackling anchor and the creeping petrification of her hand. “I've never seen... What did he do? Where is he?” Dorian was furious. He turned her hand over to get a better look and bits of her fingertips began to shed away like sand.

She whimpered as the pain sensation hit her through the numbness. She was not sure where the spell would stop, but she was afraid of it spreading. She gripped Bull by the leather strap across his chest. “You need to take it...”

“What?” he asked, a frown crinkling his forehead. “You can't be serious, Boss.”

Dorian whimpered. “Evelyn, your magic.”

“I know,” she swallowed and looked at Cole.”I'm right, aren't I?” she asked him as he hovered nearby, painful concern painted across his features.

He nodded slowly. “It's spreading, searching, sapping your strength. Solas knew. His faith was in us to save you... and _her._ ”

“That settles it,” Evelyn said, squaring her shoulders. “Do you have any more of those potions, Dorian?”

“I'm afraid not, sweetheart, and my healing magic is sapped,” he said apologetically.

“That's okay,” she said gently, caressing his saddened face. “Can you still cast fire?” He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Then we'll cauterize it until I can get to Vivienne.”

“Uh, boss... How do you plan on doing this?” Bull asked skeptically.

“One of those damned Qunari had to have an axe,” she sighed, biting her lip.

“I'll find one,” Cole said softly and rushed away.

Dorian led her to a nearby set of steps as she held the offending hand away from her body, watching it crumble as slowly as it was changing. She sat and he sat beside her. She laid her head on his shoulder and he calmly hummed soothing words in her ear as he stroked her hair. Bull hovered nearby, his eye watching her closely and constantly flicking down to the progress of the spell as they waited. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” he asked again.

She glanced up at him. “If you don't I'll die... we'll die,” she insisted. “Don't get squeamish on me now, Bull.”

He growled in frustration and mumbled something about squashing Solas' egg head the next time he saw him, just as Cole returned with a huge double bladed axe. “I tried to find a clean one... sorry.” Bull snatched it from him and pulled his handkerchief from his belt and wet it with his water-skin. Dorian stood after he had wiped away all of the blood and called a blaze to his hand to heat and sanitize the blade. Evelyn scooted to a nearby ledge at the top of the stairs, removed her armor pieces, rolled up her sleeve past her elbow, and laid the arm out as flat as she could. Then she held her other hand out to Cole. He came to her and took her hand, sitting beside her. “How can I help?”

She smiled and brushed some of his hair from his eyes. “I know you can't make me forget anymore, but can you do whatever it is you do to keep me calm and keep me awake? It would be far too embarrassing to have Bull carry me back to the Winter Palace.”

He tipped his head in confusion before he realized she was joking and he smiled briefly. “Just look at me, and don't look away.”

“Hold her still, Kadan,” Bull said gruffly as Dorian circled to stand behind her. His hands came down on her bicep and he pushed down. She could feel his mana already at the surface, waiting to call the fire that would cauterize the stump of her arm. Cole drew her attention back to him with a finger. And he locked her eyes on him. Her entire body quaked and Cole's calming magic whispered around her. She felt the heat of the reddened blade as Bull took aim. Then he lifted the axe and brought it back down so swiftly that she didn't even feel it at first. The sound of the blade clanging against the stone of the banister after a sickening crack and ripping of flesh reverberated through her, her teeth grinding together. Then suddenly the blaze of pain jerked her back to reality and she felt woozy as the air hit the open wound. Dorian quickly ignited his palm and grabbed the ruined end of her arm, searing the flesh in a controlled burn. She felt her eyes widen, but Cole was mumbling under his breath and she could not look away from him. She whimpered as the searing pain replaced the shock of her lost limb. One pain for another. Dorian removed some bandages from his pack and wrapped what was left of her arm. Cole smiled and released her.

“You did well,” he whispered softly as a wave of nausea hit her as the pain jolted through her. When Dorian let go of her finally, she pulled her arm back to her side and gripped her shoulder with her remaining hand. She rocked back and forth, tears streaming down her face. Dorian helped her to her feet with gentle hands on her shoulders. She was beaten, bloodied and scarred, but she was alive. “So did she,” Cole whispered making her choke out a relieved laugh.

“Now I just have to make it back to the Winter Palace...” she mumbled. “Easier said than done, however.” Her legs almost gave out from under her, but she refused to let that happen. She pushed away from Dorian and slowly turned to face them all. She was still crying, but her heart was lighter. She needed to get to Cullen. She walked among the three of them, and smiled, caressing each of their cheeks as she practiced walking without dropping. “My boys,” she chuckled, wiping her blood from Dorian's cheek. “So brave. All of you. Thank You.”

Bull was the first to speak. “Hey, we promised to get you through this alive. In what state was never discussed.”

Dorian scowled. “Vishante kaffas, Amatus. How crude.”

Bull waved off Dorian's comment. “You sure you don't want me to carry you, Boss? You look a little pale.”

“I think he should,” Cole said.

“At least until we see some color back in your cheeks, Evelyn,” Dorian begged.

She attempted to wave them off, but the world spun around her and she stumbled. Bull scooped her up just after Dorian caught her from falling. “I guess until we get to the Crossroads... If you carry me in to the Winter Palace, Cullen just might kill you,” she joked, resting her head against Bull's massive chest.

Evelyn found herself dozing off as they made the long trek back to the Crossroads through the elven ruins and the Darvaarad. She'd been awake for so long and she had gone through so much, she just wanted to sleep. Her arm was aching, but that was nothing compared to the horrible jolts of blinding, mind numbing pain that had come with the anchor melting down. She would probably never cast another proper spell again, but there were other ways to use her magic, and she was alive. She would see Cullen again, feel him hold her. That was worth her magic.

“Evelyn, sweet heart, we're back,” Dorian's soft voice called her back to the land of the waking and her throbbing arm responded in kind by reminding her that it was still not there. She groaned and nodded, patting Bull to let him know it was alright to set her down.

He propped her up on her feet, and after a short moment of nausea and dizziness, she swallowed the pain and stepped away from Bull. Dorian tucked his shoulders under her arm, to support her when her steps were unsteady. They crossed through the Eluvian together into the small room where Cullen had moved the mirror, Cole and Bull were right behind them. Predictably, there was a pack of Inquisition soldiers huddled on the other side, with Cullen at their head. When her eyes fell on him, she sighed and then whimpered. His eyes widened in outrage as he took in her appearance. Dorian shuffled her over to him and out of the corner of his mouth ordered one of the guards to fetch Vivienne. “What happened?” Cullen shouted as she pushed away from Dorian and fell into his arms. He carefully avoided touching her arm as he tucked her under his own strong arms.

“It's a really long story,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering as she leaned against his warm body.

“Maker's breath,” he whispered, gathering her in his arms, lifting her feet from the ground as she swayed and her knees buckled.

 

She awoke some hours later in a dimly lit room in a soft bed. It took a few moments before she remembered where she might be and why and then the throbbing in her arm returned. She whimpered softly, drawing the attention of a shadow by her bedside. Cullen sat forward and his gentle amber eyes fell on her with a smile on his face. “Welcome back.”

“How long did I sleep?” she asked, propping herself up on her right elbow.

“Nearly a day,” he reached out and brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Vivienne said your were moments away from falling into shock when you walked through that mirror.”

“I assume the boys told you what happened,” she said, leaning her cheek into his palm.

“Only fragments,” he admitted. “Only you know everything that transpired with Solas on the other side of that mirror. They tell me that losing your arm was the only way to save your life?”

“The anchor was ripping me apart. The elven magics in the Vir Dirthara and those ruins simply sped up the process,” she admitted. “Solas... Fen'Harel... whoever he is... said no one should have survived besides him. I only did because he helped me in Haven.”

Just then, Cole came quietly through the door, his hands wringing. “I knew you were awake. I needed to tell you... _she's_ okay. Happy, healthy, whole.”

Evelyn smiled at him as Cullen frowned at the strange interruption and Cole's eyes flicked between the two of them quickly. “Thank you, Cole. I appreciate everything you've done for us.”

He returned the smile. “I found some rocks in the mines for Maryden. They were pretty. They sang.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Did she like them?”

“Yes.” He slunk back out of the room and Cullen glanced back at Evelyn.

“What was that about?” he asked.

Evelyn pushed herself into a sitting position, hanging her legs over the side of the bed and patted the space beside her for him to join. He shifted from the chair to sit beside her and she smiled widely at him and took his hand. “What would you say if I told you that we were having a baby?” she bit her lip and studied the change in his expression as it went from curiosity, to shock, to fear, back to shock, and finally landed on a nervous joy.

“A b... a baby? Wh... How?” he asked, flabbergasted.

She shrugged, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. “We had talked about the future before, and something always came up to get in the way, so six months ago, I took matters into my own hands and stopped taking my contraceptive herbs. I only found out last week myself. I wanted to wait until the Exalted Council was over to tell you, and then you proposed and I wanted to tell you then, but we were so busy...”

He cut off her rambling by pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. “Maker, no wonder you were acting so strangely. I knew there was something else on your mind. That outburst in the meeting... I was terrified I'd lose you. I guess that went double for you.”

She snorted. “I have spent the last day and a half feeling so guilty and afraid that I think I gave Cole an aneurysm.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine. His hovering has always made me a bit uneasy, I'll admit, but this time, I must say I'm glad for it.”

“He says that it's a girl,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

His arm came up around her back to grip her shoulder and pull her into him. “A daughter? How can he possibly know that?”

“The same way I didn't need to tell him. He touched me and he knew. I don't completely understand Cole myself, even after these last few years, but I think I've kind of adopted him, so...” she shrugged again.

“So our daughter isn't your first child,” he said with another chuckle.

“Exactly,” she said with a snicker of her own. He sat beside her carefully rubbing his hand up and down what was left of her arm, sensitive to exactly where to stop before he hurt her, and absorbed the information that he was to be a father. She was comfortable and safe just sitting there beside him, but eventually the silence had to be broken. She sighed and asked, “What has been happening in the Exalted Council?”

He grunted and exhaled a breath. “More of the same I'm afraid.”

She extricated herself from him and stood. She no longer felt woozy or tired. Aside from the gentle throbbing in her arm, she felt fine. “Well, I think it's time I made a decision for them. I didn't just risk my life because I thought it was fun.”

She hunted around for clothes and found her formal uniform folded neatly on a chair on the far side of the room. She painstakingly dressed herself, hissing softly as the heavy fabric brushed against her still tender stump. Cullen watched her diligently, but never offered help, knowing that it would be frowned upon. Only after she rolled up the empty sleeve and could not find anything to secure it with did she ask him for help. He found a hat pin and carefully pushed it through the back of the sleeve to hold it in place. “What do you plan to say?” he asked with curiosity.

She grinned. “You know that I have no idea... but I will not allow them to hobble us. Do you happen to know if Cassandra brought the writ from the Divine with her?”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “She never goes anywhere without it.”

“Good... If you want to watch the fun, get to the Council. I'll be there in no time...” She kissed him and rushed off to find Cassandra's book.

 

She gripped the heavy tome tightly against her chest, breathing in and out slowly before steeling herself to enter the room. Inside she could hear muffled arguing. Duke Cyril's voice rose above the rest. “Clearly something must be done, but we cannot lose the Inquisition now... We stand on the brink of war with the Qunari!”

“Yes!” Teagan interrupted. “Because this 'Solas' provoked them in the first place!”

Josephine's voice was strained as she fought. Evelyn nudged open the door and stepped into the room, walking down the aisle with purpose as Josie spoke. The table where they'd sat on their first day had been removed and was replaced by several rows of spectator chairs as well as a line along the right hand wall where her Inner Circle all sat. Josephine was standing before the raised dais where Leliana sat, back rigid between the two arguing men. “The Inquisition did not cause this threat! We informed the summit of the danger...”

“The danger posed by Qunari spies inside _your_ organization!” Teagan raged.

“Without _our_ organization, you would not be alive to complain,” Leliana said, snidely, her composure clearly rattled.

Teagan sighed. “No one has forgotten what you have done, but Corypheus is two years dead.”

Cyril sighed as well. “If the Inquisition is to continue, it must do so as a legitimate organization, not a glorified mercenary band.”

When she stepped up beside Josephine and the entire room got a good look at her, complete silence fell. It was obvious that her story had not traveled far beyond Cullen and Vivienne. Likely because no one knew the whole story. “Inquisitor?” Josephine said softly, her eyes falling to Evelyn's missing arm and her jaw dropping.

Evelyn gave her a brief nod and shifted the book into her hand to hold it aloft, projecting her voice above the silence and addressing everyone present, not just the ambassadors. “You all know what this is. A writ from Divine Justinia authorizing the formation of the Inquisition. We pledged to close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order.” Her eyes flicked to Cassandra who was watching from the sidelines with rapt attention and she grinned before using the own woman's words. “With or without anyone's approval...” The Seeker closed her eyes with a smile and shook her head. “I am proud to say we accomplished that goal. We will honor the sacrifices of those who gave their lives in defense of what we stood for... and still stand for!” She turned back to the dais and pulled her heels together. “Because our work is not done, where we led in war, we will now serve in peace. The Inquisition will act as Divine Victoria's personal honor guard. Answering directly to her, we will transition from a military force into a peacekeeping organization... My own adventuring days may be done,” She held up the stump of her arm in demonstration. “but the Inquisition... and it's mission... will continue.” She tucked the tome back against her chest, took a short bow directed at Leliana only, and spun on her heel to leave the room. The Inquisition was hers. Nobody was taking that from her. She trusted her people in Leliana's hands, and the Divine was a neutral party.

Evelyn was waiting out on a balcony, taking in the fresh air when she heard a group of footsteps approaching from behind. She turned to see all of her friends approaching her with varying degrees of smiles and questions. Cullen followed up at the rear, with a large crooked smile of his own. Bull got to her first and picked her up in a huge bear hug. “You did it, Boss!”

When he set her down, Dorian shooed him. “Get off her, you great lummox. Evelyn, darling, how are you feeling?” Dorian asked, brushing her hair behind her ears and giving her his own gentle hug.

“Much better,” she said, her good arm wrapping around him.

Cole perched himself on the handrail nearby, smiling happily. The others all approached her, each of them taking a hug for themselves and either asking after her, congratulating her on saving the Inquisition, or asking her what happened. She sat down on a nearby bench and everyone gathered around to hear as she told them everything, with help from both Bull and Dorian until she got to the part about Solas. All eyes fell on her as she went into great detail about everything he had said. It felt good to have everything out in the open. When she was finished, Varric broke the silence. “Aurora, I am going to need a lot more ink if I'm going to be writing this whole mess down.”

“As long as you don't stick with your working title, I'll even help you write,” she chuckled.

“And what exactly is wrong with 'This Shit is Weird: The Inquisitor Trevelyan Story'?” he asked indignantly.

“It is strangely suitable,” Cullen said with a shrug as he nudged her gently.

She grinned. “You married into this weird,” she pointed out.

“Yes, and you're spreading it,” he grinned, dropping their secret on the group.

“He doesn't mean...!” Cassandra gasped, her hand fluttering over her heart.

“Andraste's ass, why didn't you tell us, Aurora?” Varric asked, all too amused by Cassandra's reaction. “We could have had a party.”

“What? I don't get it...” Sera said, her face screwing up.

Vivienne rolled her eyes. “The Commander has just announced that our dear Inquisitor is having his baby...” she said with a sigh as if explaining to Sera was a full time job that she had endured for far too long.

Sera let out a noise of disgust followed by giggling and then pointing. “Oooh did it happen on the desk? Did you ever get the arrow head out from under there?!” she collapsed in a fit of more giggling while Cullen glared at her.

“I knew that was you,” he grunted.

“Oui! Play fair! Your wife was the one that helped me lift up the desk!” Sera accused. Cullen looked at Evelyn with shock as she flushed and giggled. “It took him weeks to find it and she knew it was there!” Sera cackled again.

Josephine gasped. “Were you really the one that... With the bucket!?”

Evelyn couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst out laughing as Sera rolled onto her back and started kicking her feet. “There are so many more that all of you have yet to discover!” Evelyn confessed. “Including you, Sera.”

“Oooh, bad Inky! You don't prank your partners!” Sera said, still giggling.

“Well, I'll not be going back in the stables when I come to visit Skyhold,” Rainier said with a grin.

“Actually, that one backfired when Dennet tried to rearrange the place after you left,” Evelyn said with a pout.

“ _You_ were the cause of that?” Leliana said in shock. “The poor man was convinced there was a ghost in the castle for weeks!”

“I know, I actually felt really bad about that,” she said, biting her lip.

“I've married a monster,” Cullen said with a grin.

“The only one here that I have never gotten around to is Leliana. Me and Sera almost got caught when we tried the first time and I never went back,” she shrugged.

“For shame, Evelyn...” Dorian gasped. “You were the one who rearranged my library, weren't you?”

She winked. “That wasn't all I did, love... As meticulous as you are, I'm surprised you haven't noticed yet.”

“Sweet Maker, I really don't want to know,” Dorian said with a sigh.

“I do!” Bull said with a chuckle.

Evelyn chuckled. “On the shelves behind those rearranged books... I carved a few dirty pictures for you.”

Dorian let out one of his loud reverberating one syllable laughs before Bull's booming laugh joined in. “I'm going to miss you, sweetheart.”

“You don't _have_ to go,” she pouted.

“Yes, I do. Maevaris will need my hand in sorting out the other Magisters... That's why I got you that present,” he said sadly.

She reached up and touched the crystal still hanging around her neck. “I'm going to use it everyday.”

“You'd better,” he said, rising from his seat. “Speaking of which, it is getting late and with the Exalted Council concluded, I will need to be heading out for the journey home in the morning.”

Evelyn stood and they embraced warmly, her gripping him as tightly as she could with only one arm. “Don't worry, Boss. I'll take good care of him.”

Dorian grunted and began arguing with him as they walked off together. “That's enough mush for me,” Sera said, getting up off the ground. “I've got to get back to my Widdle... see you arse biscuits later.” she turned to walk away, but stopped and looked at Leliana. “Oh and remember Most Madame Holy Bits... When the nobs piss about with your left hand or right, call on Red Jenny to give them two fingers!” She then made a rude gesture and turned back around, leaving the balcony.

“How colorful,” Vivienne said with a sigh. With a short bow to everyone she also sauntered off, her pointed Hennin glinting in the lowering sun.

Rainier took his leave next as Varric handed Cassandra a book that Evelyn recognized as the next chapter of one of his books. The Seeker smiled at him, actually smiled, and Evelyn almost burst out laughing. “Well, Aurora, let me know if you ever wanna use that fancy key I gave you, or if you'd like a grand tour of your estate. Anything to get me out of the Keep for a few hours,” Varric said coming over to hug her as well.

“Estate?” Cullen asked, his brow raising.

Varric chuckled. “Didn't she tell you curly? You're married to a comtesse of Kirkwall.”

Evelyn made a mock curtsy and Varric chuckled. “I have the key to the chains on the harbor too,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth to Cullen who shook his head and chuckled.

With one last pat to her arm, Varric left. Cassandra congratulated them on their news, but Evelyn knew she would be at Skyhold when they returned, so no reason for weepy goodbyes. Cole was the last to leave and Evelyn asked him. “What are you going to do now?”

“I'm going with Maryden to Ferelden for a while...” he said sheepishly.

“You're welcome to visit us any time,” she said, hugging him. After a moments hesitation, he hugged her back.

“I will,” he said with certainty, and then he was gone, leaving Evelyn alone with Cullen.

They sat back down on the bench and she rested her head on his shoulder to watch the sun go down over Orlais. “I love you,” he whispered to her gently, his breath moving her hair before he kissed her head.

“I love you, too,” she answered.

 


End file.
